by Snow, Nicole
“I want you.” Her voice is tortured, her eyes lidded, heat flowing through her and pouring out her eyes.
There’s my Brina, always to the point.
I move my hand down to the next button and caress newly exposed skin. Then with my lips near her ear, I whisper, “You know something? You’re going to want it a lot more before we get there.”
A husky laugh falls out of her, so sweet it makes my balls ache.
I can’t help but kiss her lips again, an animal hunger in my blood.
She brushes my bottom lip with her tongue, and soon we’re lost in another long, winding kiss. My cock wants me to rip her clothes off, haul her to bed, and sink into her balls deep this very second. But another part of me wants to stay right here.
Arms locked around each other, tongues tangled, so close I can feel her pulse.
My fingers trail down on a mission.
One.
Two.
Three more buttons, and I’m done.
Bringing both hands to her shoulders, I slide the dress away from her body.
Finally, I give in, pick her up, and carry her to bed where I lay her down gently in a splash of sighs and tossed hair.
Instead of climbing in with her, I’m stricken, staring, soaking in the fresh creamy skin giving my bed a new soul.
Damn it all.
Her body seems so tense her abs move when she breathes, waiting for me, fully open to every wicked thought in my mind.
“You coming?” she whispers, her bottom lip quivering.
I wish she knew how fucking close I am.
Still standing beside the bed, I reach over, hooking a finger under the lace of her waistband. She covers my finger with her hand.
“They match,” I say darkly, my throat scorched with desire.
“What?”
“Your panties. They match your bra. I thought it was worth noting before they’re gone.” My hooked finger moves, pulling that lacey waistband down, but the hand that covers my finger stops me with a firm grip.
Fuck. I hope it’s not cold feet. I don’t blame her. I’m probably going to hell for this, but I need her so badly I’ll break if we stop now.
She surprises me as always.
Brina swats my hand away from her panties and comes up on her knees. “Play fair. I’m down to a flimsy piece of lace, and you’re still dressed...”
She trails off, this hot, playful redness glowing on her face like a halo.
I grin.
“If you want this off, you need to be naked,” she whispers.
Lucky for her, I can handle that rule.
19
Sweet Perfection (Sabrina)
“You’ll be the death of me,” he says, staring down at me with eyes so hot I think I’ll walk out of here with a sunburn.
How did I even get here?
On my knees. On my boss’ bed, wearing nothing but my panties.
I swallow hard.
Because I know it’s not my boss. Not King Asshole. Not anymore.
It’s just Mag, and what was unbearably wrong just became right.
“Then you’ll enjoy your last moments on earth,” I whisper, my voice husky, unlike any tone I’ve ever heard.
Holy hell. This is what he does to me.
And he leans down then, bringing his savage mouth back to mine. The passionate kiss makes me frantic, and I slide my hands under his shirt, moving them up and down.
He sighs.
I walk my fingers down his chest, under the waistband of his boxers, tracing circles into his bare skin. He’s a slab of a man, skin like velvet stretched over solid rock in all the right places.
My eyes go to the huge pulsing bulge in his pants. It looks like it’ll rip through the flimsy fabric in a second and claim me.
My fingers push to the top of his pelvis, stroking faster circles from one hip to the next, making me hotter and wetter by the second. Every touch forces me to think about what the power in those hips could do to me.
Can I even take him?
“Sabrina, fuck.” He chokes on my name, two words dragged across sandpaper.
Hearing him so aroused, so drunk on me, sends a tremor down my spine. I walk my fingers back up, teasing his skin, edging my fingers deeper in his flesh, into rock-hard muscle.
When my hand falls down, grazing the crop of hair below his abs, I gasp.
“You weren’t supposed to stop,” he growls, moving his hand over mine, holding it to his body.
Clasping a fist around my fingers, he leads me down, and wraps my hand around every unseen inch of him.
He’s hot, alive, and throbbing like a piston.
Mag’s hell-blue eyes drill into my soul as I feel him jerk in my hand, flexing, making me imagine what he’ll do once he’s deep inside me.
Oh, hell.
It’s hard to even breathe.
All I can do is pull back, licking my lips, eyeing the hot sauna pools whirling in his eyes.
I need a distraction, so I wrap my hands around either side of the cotton t-shirt he’s wearing and yank it over his head, then run my hands down his bare chest. He brings an arm behind my back, pulling me closer, kissing me with the force of an angry god.
Call me shameless, I don’t care.
I’m past worrying about how I moan, collapse, and melt in his arms.
Especially when our tongues dance a mad ballet, and when he traces my bottom lip with the most sensual groan I’ve ever heard in my life. Several rough fingers hook inside the waistline of my panties again.
Mag!
“Not yet,” I sputter, breaking off the kiss, gasping for air.
He presses his lips to mine, tasting the inside of my lip, a quick and fleeting kiss.
“I’m not fully dressed anymore. We had a deal,” he reminds me.
I shake my head, forcing back a smile.
He looks so deliciously grumpy I want to laugh.
“No way, mister. You’re still wearing too much.” I loop my fingers around the waist of his sweats and pull them down, then shove him against the bed.
Well, I try.
He pretends I can actually move him and falls back, flopping down, grinning up at me.
He laughs. “If we act like you’re in control, will you get the hell over here and fuck me?”
I suck my bottom lip, lost for words.
“Brina. Get over here,” he snarls again, reaching up in a flash, wrapping his hand around my hip.
He tumbles me against him, hoisting my hips up to connect with his. The last thing I ever imagined was Magnus Heron having a playful side—in bed, no less—but I’m already in love.
I lean over him, clasping each of his massive shoulders, lightly rubbing his skin with my nails. Once I know he’s holding me up, my hands move from his shoulders, arcing down his chest, frolicking across his canvas of granite muscle and the wild ink on his arm.
He presses me against him, taking one breast in his lips, sucking my nipple. He leaves me no choice but to clench helplessly, digging my nails into him.
“Oh, God.” The moan escapes my lips. “Mag, yeah.”
For him, those words are magic, pure sorcery.
He nibbles, caresses, and sucks as I massage.
I shift to the side so I can rub down the length of his arm, admiring his strength. His hand comes up to cover my other breast.
I’m on fire, but I want to tease him the way he torments me.
I want him to want me like he’s never desired anything else.
It takes all my willpower not to grind against him, not to slide my panties off and throw his boxers across the room, not to impale myself on the dangerous hard-on I feel against my thigh.
Not yet.
I need him to quench this raging thirst.
Closing my eyes, I sigh as his thumb rolls over my nipple.
“You really enjoy these, don’t you?” I ask.
“They’re the finest pair of tits I’ve ever seen, touched, or sucked. A perfect handful and perfectly natural
, but what I love most is the sound you make when I go to town. No question.”
Yep. I’m done for.
It’s a miracle his blue-eyed hellfire doesn’t set the whole room ablaze.
I smile and sigh, rubbing my fingers into the meat of his palm, between his fingers. I move back to his torso, rub his abs down to his briefs, slide my fingers under the elastic, and glide off his lap so I can finally remove them.
His thick manhood springs free, just as insane as I thought it’d be.
I take it in my hand, ready to tame the beast.
Mag works his fingers down my belly while I’m still standing. A sultry rush knifes through me when he fists my lace, jerking it past my knees.
“Fuck,” he whispers, his eyes riveted between my legs, his nostrils flaring like he can smell how wet I am.
Dying.
I may not survive this. But if that’s the way it goes, tell everyone Brina Bristol died in ecstasy.
Mag pulls me in so we’re face-to-face, then throws me on the bed, shifting us so we’re on our sides. He strokes the inside of my thighs, rough hands on silky skin, up to the crease where my legs meet.
He traces both sides, worshiping my inner thighs, before his fingers are in me.
“Oh!” I scream, legs shaking, then cover my mouth because I don’t mean to be so loud. “S-sorry.”
“These walls are thick. The boy can’t hear us so far away,” he says, a wicked smile turning up his lips.
His finger pumps in and out again, stroking against fragile, insanely sensitive places I didn’t know I had.
I’m reeling. Wrecked. Thoughtless.
“Mag, we shouldn’t—”
“You worry too much. Let me help you stay quiet.” His lips seal mine shut and his tongue chases me into delirium.
Am I still breathing? Because this is heaven.
Skin-to-skin with Magnus Heron, and the tenderness of his kiss stuns me.
I never thought he had it in him to kiss like he cherishes me, shifting his thumb against my clit, winding hypnotic circles until my head rolls back.
I hate to pull away, but his hands aren’t enough.
I need more.
So I wrap a leg around his, try pushing him on his back, but he holds firm.
“Not our first time, sweetheart.”
First time? Is this something that’s going to happen again?
Oh. My. God.
But I can’t contemplate it too long because my body burns with every pulse. Plus, I’ve just landed flat on my back.
His face hovers over mine, all hot breath and midnight-blue eyes so bright I think I’m blind.
Our lips brush as he lets out a carnal growl.
He possesses my mouth with his tongue, pushing his hand back between my legs, taking me to a place where there’s no more fight, doubt, or resistance.
His fingers claim my pussy with a roughness, a quickening pace that makes me tighten around his digits, sending me over the edge so embarrassingly fast I feel a full body flush coming on.
Oh, no.
He’s possessed all of me.
I’m twisting now, writhing against him, staring into a gaze that hasn’t softened, that only reaches down inside me and ignites a bigger fire by the second.
“Come for me, woman,” he grinds out, his throat so tight as he watches me. “Fucking shatter.”
I do.
On command.
Fully, helplessly, madly.
This fireball explodes in my belly, so deep and resonate, lifting me up and slamming me down. My fingers catch the sheets, clutching and tearing, desperate to hold on as those terrible—terribly awesome—fingers of his work me to a manic frenzy.
I’m coming so hard I can’t even help it.
Coming with my head thrashing, my teeth bared, and Mag flipping Heron watching the whole time.
Halfway through, he leans down, still stroking me to bliss. His lips attack mine, this time with a feral growl, and I’m done.
My lips are so full of his that there’s no chance to scream.
Just shake.
Just breathe and whimper and dig my nails into his back as he pumps into me, turning me into an exhausted mess.
He stays propped up, his weight gently pressed against me, stroking the same devilish fingers through my hair as my eyes flutter open.
“Welcome back, sweetheart. I should’ve known you’d come your soul out,” he whispers with a smirk.
I can’t believe I’m not spent, a boneless mess, but somehow I’m still wet. Still aching for this man and his dagger tongue to give me what I need at the deepest, primal level.
“Fair’s fair. Now I get to see you,” I tell him, reaching for his cock.
How can I not adore the sparkle in his eyes when I squeeze his shaft, stroking up and down, feeling his hot pre-come ooze across my hand?
He makes another sinful, growly noise as my fingers leave his dick, crawling down his back to the tight skin of his oh-so-firm ass.
It’s so nice in my hands. Round and warm and hard as a rock.
I wrap my legs around his, arching up as he pushes down.
“Enough torture. I want you so bad,” I say, flicking my tongue across his lips.
It’s all he needs to take my mouth again, reminding me who’s boss, tormenting me a little longer as his tongue strokes in and out, a hint of everything he’ll do to my body.
I fight my way out of the kiss. “Mag, I need more.”
With thunder in his voice, he shifts back on his knees, gripping the base of his cock, lining it with my entrance.
“Once we start, there’s no going back,” he teases, rubbing the swollen, angry tip of his length against my clit. “This won’t be as gentle as I kiss.”
“Lucky you, I don’t want gentle.”
His eyes flash, blue heat tinged with lust, a visible twitch in his face.
“Fuck, Brina, I—I need a condom.”
Just as he starts moving, I pinch my legs around his.
“I’m on the pill. I’m clean. And you work like a monk, so I’m guessing you are too,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “No more games. Take me, Mag. Take it all. Take me over.”
I slide my ankles against his, clamping down, begging him to do everything and more.
The look he gives me is equal parts gorgeous as hell and barely freaking human.
With a deep breath, he rolls his hips forward, feeding an inch in at a time, and then pushing faster, harder, when he feels how wet I am.
My boss plunges deep inside me in one feral stroke, and I gasp, feeling his balls against my skin.
His breath hisses like a crackling fire as he pulls back, gliding into me again, this time without mercy.
I arch up as he presses down, meeting his pace, turning his twin blue flames into blistering suns. He’s growling as he hoists me up, fusing us together, shoving my thighs around his waist and sinking his fingers into the flesh of my ass.
I feel like a doll being ravished by a giant as those whipcord muscles move him like the wind, splitting me open, battering against me so hard there’s an audible slap of our skin.
Holy shit.
Unholy thrusts.
And soon they’re possessing every last bit of me, his hips colliding so hard my breasts shake, a possessive groan in his throat promising he won’t be undone until he brands me with another searing O.
I’m all moans, hair spilling down around me, desperately trying to meet his thrusts, blood rushing to my extremities in a raging torrent. He torches me every time he slams down harder, deeper, wilder.
I’m already on the edge when I feel Mag’s forehead on mine, hot bone through his skin, the bed creaking with his punishing strokes as his pubic bone grinds on my clit.
“Oh-oh-oh, Mag!” I graze my teeth across the skin of his face, inhaling the breath spilling out of him.
“Come for me again. I know you want to. Give me the whole night,” he rasps, his eyes these pinpricks I can’t ignore.
I don’t
even have a prayer.
My hips lift up with his before he crashes into me again, grabbing my wrists and pinning me down, the world’s most willing captive as a tidal wave release splits me in two.
This time, I’m too breathless to even scream.
And he’s intent on hammering me through it, his hips slashing harder, mashing us together so I’m absolutely full of him.
God!
My pussy convulses, coming so hard on his cock, making me a total mess of hot want and spastic ecstasy. I don’t think the O ever ends, only lightens, as he goes to work again.
This time with a mood that swings between tender kisses and delicious growls, relentless thrusts and teasing caresses.
Yeah, I’m not on Earth anymore.
He’s taken me to this dark wonderland ruled by a broody king with a staff like pure steel. A place that becomes a little more enchanted with every fierce thrust, every sweet ruin he pulls out of me, every breathless whine of his name.
“Brina,” he sighs, rooting himself in me. “I’m going to come inside you like mad. Just like I was always meant to.”
Holy hell.
My mind goes blank as his hips move again. His strokes come faster, deeper, and more deliberate, eager to claim me from the inside out.
Somehow, I hold on through several more minutes, trying to stave off coming again because I want to go off with him.
The urgency of his thrusts quicken.
Faster.
Harder.
I meet them every time.
The minutes blur, the seconds condense, and then every muscle in his body goes electric and tense as granite. I see his gorgeous face whip back, his teeth bared, a rough sound tearing out of him that may be a guttural curse—or my name.
Whatever it is, it’s the only warning I get from Magnus Heron.
He gasps and I feel him swell, fully in me, stretching me apart.
My body clenches around him.
Movement stops.
Then I’m filled to absolute perfection with dense, hot ropes of his seed.
I come with him, swallowing a scream, and everything goes white.
The feral groan he makes when he empties his essence etches on my brain, and I’m just as sure his release burns his initials inside me for life.
* * *
