Читать книгу Twilight Hunter - Kait Ballenger - Страница 11

CHAPTER FOUR

DESIRE BILLOWED THROUGH Frankie as she stared into the hunter’s wolf eyes. This can’t be happening. He wasn’t human? Shit. The flash of gold she’d seen in his eyes earlier hadn’t just been a trick of the light. She hadn’t seen that coming. A hunter with any supernatural abilities or bloodlines was completely unheard of. How could she have anticipated the familiar pair of wolf eyes staring her in the face? And if the hunter wasn’t human, which clearly he wasn’t, then he needed to get the hell away from her before her estrus cycle hit full force. Once that happened, like it or not, they would both be more than ready to do the horizontal tango. He didn’t even know her real name—and, more importantly, she didn’t know his name, either—but if he stuck around she would be sleeping with him. She needed to get him out of there—now.

“Get away from me!” She pulled against her restraints.

He leaned in closer, his body hovering centimeters over hers. “What? Does your own infection disgust you?”

Damn it! I thought you were human! What the hell could she do to get him to stay away? This uncontrollable need to mate with the nearest Alpha male was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid earlier in the evening.

Another tsunami of heat and longing overcame her, and she arched her spine, gritting her teeth. No wonder she’d been so attracted to him, because no matter how small his werewolf heritage might be, he wasn’t completely human, and all her body needed to detect and prepare itself for an Alpha male was the slightest trace of a bloodline. Neither of them would be able to stop it. “Absolutely not, and it’s not an infection, it’s a gift. A gift that’s going to hit you like an oncoming bus if you don’t listen to me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He pulled away and left her on the bed. Her skin prickled against the rush of cool air as the heat of his presence disappeared from her skin as quickly as it had come.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s the full moon, and tonight I would have been forced by my pack to choose a male to begin the mating process with. I already knew who I would be choosing, but only because my parents arranged it before their deaths to ensure that the strongest bloodlines continued. I’m not in love with him, so I ran to avoid the ceremony.”

He grabbed hold of the whiskey bottle again and raised a single brow. “And I give a shit, why?”

“Because I’m in my mating cycle. It’s my time to choose a mate, and you may not be a full werewolf, but you’re not completely human, either.”

How was he not making this connection? She watched his grip tighten around the bottle. Maybe she was getting through to him. All she could do was appeal to his sense of reason.

“I was out hunting for the killer because I was trying to escape my mating ceremony. I thought I’d have a couple hours of strength to hunt before my cycle hit full force. When you captured me, I thought you were a human, so you were immune. I thought that tomorrow, when my strength came back, I could easily take you down and escape—and, lucky me, mating ceremony avoided for one more year in the process. But when 3:00 a.m. rolls around, between the full moon, the supernatural hour and the mating call, you’re not going to be able to control yourself around me.”

“Stop feeding me bullshit.”

She tore at her handcuffs to no avail and gritted her teeth. Her anger at his ignorance skyrocketed. Why wouldn’t he listen to her? “It’s not bullshit. It’s fact. I’m a werewolf, asshole. While human, my body is also wolf—”

“Son of bitch!” he interrupted.

She knew he didn’t like what he was hearing, but he needed to know, so she ignored him and kept going. “It’s a natural estrus cycle. Once a year. It’s not like I can control it. I’ve been taking extended vacations around this time since I was fourteen.”

He swore again. “So what? It’s just my fucking luck you decided to stick around this year?”

Her eyes hardened. “I told you to let me go. You still can.”

He frowned. “Look, I don’t care what you think you know about me just because I’m a half-breed, all right? The truth is you don’t know a damn thing. I’ve never once acted like one of you animals my whole damn life and I’m not starting now.” He turned away.

She wrenched against her restraints, and the wood of the bed frame groaned beneath her strength. “On the night of the full moon, do you feel its pull, like something living is crawling underneath your skin, threatening to burst out?”

He froze.

“I bet you get the same feeling when you’re angry. You constantly fight to control your emotions and hide your identity from the other hunters. When you’re hunting and you smell a female werewolf, it turns you on more than a human woman ever could, doesn’t it, and you hate yourself all the more for it.”

He remained silent, his body language speaking volumes. The muscles in his back flexed, and rage radiated off him like a nuclear bomb.

“And right now I’m making you angry,” she said, pushing him to his limits. “Because every mention of your true nature pisses you off. You’d rather loathe yourself your entire life than embrace what you really are. You’ve probably never even shifted.”

Silence answered her, as powerful and forceful as if he’d screamed.

He needs to know this, she reassured herself.

“How can you hunt your own kind?” A pang of sadness hit her in the chest. A part of her felt sorry for him because she was challenging all his preconceived notions about himself.

“I’m not one of you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she bit her lower lip. This wasn’t happening. “You are.”

He spun to face her, his face flushed and his hands clenched into fists. “I am nothing like him!” he roared.

Frankie jerked against the headboard as his eyes flashed wolf-gold again. A young, untamed and angered wolf, even a half-breed, was impossible to control, and she didn’t even have hands to fight with.

He knocked over a nearby table, which crashed to the floor, one of its legs splintering. “I would never abuse my wife because I couldn’t deal with my own nature and the anger that comes with it. I would never walk out on my family because of some fucking mating call, and I would never kill an innocent human being.”

Walking to the bedside, he stared her square in the face, and Frankie saw the resolve in his gaze.

“I’m nothing like you.”

He was so close to her that she could feel the heat pulsating from his body. Clenching her thighs together, she tried to ignore her undeniable need. She inhaled a sharp breath, balling up her courage. “You can’t hide from the truth forever.”

He broke eye contact and stalked into the kitchen, grabbing the whiskey as he went.

“And for future reference...we’re not all monsters,” she called after him. “I had a family once, and I never would have betrayed them.”

He continued walking toward the front door. He pulled out the key, turned it, then opened the door and stood clutching the knob.

“Even if you don’t believe me, at least tell me your name.” Since we’re going to be together tonight. Her stomach churned with nerves.

“McCannon. My name’s Jace McCannon,” he said, before he slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

JACE CHARGED THROUGH the hallway, bounded down the stairs and bolted into the street. The cold winter air slapped him in the face, sending a deep chill through his bones. What the hell was he going to do? What if she was telling the truth?

Shit.

He paced back and forth in front of the building, his massive combat boots thumping against the ground and his heart pounding right along with them. He’d never been so on edge in his life.

He glanced up at the sky. The moon was shining down on him, and a sharp heat prickled beneath his skin. Damn it, how did she know all those things about him?

Because you’re one of them, his mind taunted.

He pounded his fist on the hood of the Hummer, leaving a large dent. The car’s alarm sounded, piercing his ears with its high-pitched noise.

“Damn.” The alarm drowned out his curse. He considered walking back upstairs to get the key, but he couldn’t go back up there. Not, for the sake of his own sanity, just yet. He would have to wait for the alarm to shut off on its own. He clutched his hair, feeling the need to rip it from his skull—something, anything, to bring him back to reality.

Reality? He laughed. He hunted werewolves for a living. The real world was harsh. In true reality, evil consumed, and he was longing for ignorance. He stared down the street and saw a young couple entering another apartment building. They shot irritated glances his way as the car continued flashing and screeching. What would it be like to be them? To be clueless about the supernatural scum blending in with society? Jace stood there for several minutes until the alarm finally gave up and shut off.

Just when he thought he might have a moment of peace his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out without looking at the screen and held it to his ear. “What?”

“Uh...hi, Jace.”

“Who the hell is this?”

“It’s Shane.”

He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. Just great. If there was one thing that always made him feel like even more of an ass, it was being pissy with Shane. It was like kicking a damn puppy.

“Sorry, kid. I’m having a rough night. What can I do you for?”

“David and I are at the crime scene right now.”

Jace waited for him to keep going, but only silence came from the other end of the line. “And you’re calling to tell me...what?” He glanced down. An ant crept across a crack in the sidewalk. He ground his boot into the pavement and squashed it.

“David wanted me to let you know...”

Jace tapped his foot, his patience already running short. “Spit it out.”

“We think there is evidence that’s suggestive of demonic or cult activity,” Shane said in a cautious voice. The kid exhaled a slow, heavy breath into the phone, as if he anticipated Jace ripping him a new one.

Jace stayed silent, processing what Shane had said. “Kid, you care to tell me why that is, when it’s clear that only an animal is capable of creating that much carnage with its teeth?”

He heard Shane inhale deeply, gearing himself up for a long-ass speech. “The hearts have been removed. You see, the heart is a symbolic organ and—”

Jace’s grip on the phone tightened until he thought it might break. “Get to the point.” He stared at the apartment building. She was up there, lying on his bed. Naked. The thought of Princess’s smooth, caramel skin made his mouth water, and he saw himself running his tongue along her hot, pink slit.

Man, he was a sick freak.

Shane’s voice snapped him from his thoughts like a broken rubber band. “—it’s actually used in many demonic and satanic rituals, so the removal suggests motive.”

The anger that had already settled inside Jace’s chest boiled. “David put you up to this, didn’t he?”

“Um...”

“He thought I wouldn’t be angry if you called, huh? Let me talk to him.”

“He said—”

“Put him on the damn phone, Shane.”

A rustling noise crackled through the receiver before Jace heard David’s deep voice. “Listen, J. I th—”

“No, you listen. Did you look at that poor girl’s body? Something ripped her to pieces, and you can’t tell me a human is responsible.” He jabbed his finger in midair, then dropped it, remembering David couldn’t see his anger.

“I believe you, J. But some demons can shape-shift into animals, and—”

Jace slapped his palm into his forehead. “Is the kid near you? Can he hear me?”

“If you keep on screaming, yeah.”

“Then walk away for a minute.” He heard David take a few steps. “I told you I got the scent from it. So you wanna tell me how the hell I’m wrong?” he whispered.

“Damon said if there were any signs of demonic or cult activity to let him know. I thought you’d want to know, too. We’ve got to keep our options open.”

“Screw Damon.” Jace clenched his jaw and battled to hold a string of profanities inside.

“I’m following orders, man. I’m not saying you’re wrong. Damon’s just trying to get this solved, and getting to piss you off in the meantime is just a bonus for him.”

Jace paused. The vein in his temple throbbed. “What are you talking about?”

David sighed. “He’s placing everyone else on the case, J. One more strike and he’s taking you off as lead hunter.”

“No, no, no. Vote to overturn that shit and problem solved.” Jace shook his head. This was the last thing he needed.

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“If I challenge Damon, from here on out he’ll start giving me the same crap he dishes out to you. I can’t have that. At least one of us has to be in his good graces,” David said.

“So you’re hanging me out to dry, then?”

“I didn’t say—”

“Doesn’t need to be said. Message heard loud and clear.” Jace jabbed the off button and considered chucking the device into the middle of the street.

Shoving the phone back in his pocket instead, he exhaled a long breath. The chilly February weather transformed his breath into something visible, and he imagined his body steaming with rage like the smoke stack of an old train. Everything was peachy—just fucking peachy.

* * *

“DAMN. THAT SON OF a bitch hung up on me.” David shoved his phone into the pocket of his leather jacket and frowned. Jace was one hell of a hunter and a good guy, but man, did he have the temper of an angry bull on steroids. And David had just taken a cattle prod to the bull’s ass.

Shane stood from where he knelt by the body and cleared his throat. “Jace has had it rough lately.”

David shook his head. With Damon harping on Jace’s every move and the massive blows his self-esteem had been taking from not being able to catch the damn killer, rough was a massive understatement. “You don’t need to preach to me about it. I cut him more slack than anyone.”

“I wasn’t implying you didn’t. I guess I just feel bad for him.” Shane paused and glanced at the ground before he turned to David again. “Do you think Damon’s right? Do you think Jace should’ve caught the guy by now?”

“Damon needs to keep his friggin’ mouth shut, that’s what I think.” David frowned. “Jace is the best werewolf hunter I know, and I’ve worked with quite a few over the years. If he hasn’t gotten this guy yet, there’s a reason.” He zipped his jacket closed as another gust of cold Canadian wind blew through the city. With weather like this, he needed to put in for a transfer to Honolulu. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”

Shane shoved his hands in his pockets. “So you think it’s not a werewolf, then?”

“No, I trust J’s judgment. If he says it’s a werewolf, I believe him.” He would be an idiot not to, knowing Jace’s darkest secret.

Life would be so much easier if they could tell the Execution Underground management the main reason why Jace was so damn good at his job. But hell would be made of flowers and candy before Damon would let a half-breed be a part of his team.

David ran his fingers through his hair. “For the sake of these girls, I can’t close my mind to other possibilities.” He gestured to the body. A shiver ran down his spine as he looked at her one more time. Rigor had set in, and her already lifeless form had become all the more still. The blood had dried around her in a pool of black, and the remnants of the crimson on her skin crusted over. He shook his head. A normal human wasn’t capable of this kind of carnage.

“Do you think there’s any significance that all the victims are attractive women? Well...at least as far as we can tell, anyway.” Shane’s eyes darted around the alley.

David shrugged. “That’s a hard call.”

Shane met his gaze for a moment before his eyes fell to the ground again. “I think it has some significance.”

“How do you figure?” David asked.

“Look at the details.” Shane bent next to the body and pointed at the victim’s face, her heavily shadowed lids and red-tinted pout. “From the crime-scene photos, all the other victims wore heavy makeup like this.” He gestured to the hair hanging over the girl’s shoulder. “All of them had their hair done nicely, and from what’s left of their clothes, they weren’t dressed casually.” He stood and stepped back from the body.

“All right, then. What are you thinking?”

“My theory,” Shane said, “is that he isn’t blitz attacking them on the streets. He’s picking them up, like at a club or a bar. That would explain the age range, as well—college girls. A lot of them look around the age of my students at U of R.”

David nodded. “I’ll be damned, Shane. Where do you come up with this stuff?”

Shane shrugged. “I pay close attention to detail.”

David stared into the girl’s frozen face. She was so young, and if she didn’t look exactly like Allsún—large wide eyes veiled by thick lashes, heart-shaped face, head full of curls, and the look of a small pixie—she was close. But no girl would ever be as beautiful as Allsún, not in his eyes. The thought of her lying there like this poor girl sent his stomach reeling, and a sharp pang hit his chest.

But how would he know if this girl really looked like her? Other than quick glimpses, he hadn’t seen Allsún in years. He shook his head, trying to fight off the thoughts. What he wouldn’t give to bury his face in her neck, kiss her one more time, hold her and know that she was safe. He closed his eyes and buried the painful memories in the back of his mind, where they belonged. “Only one problem, though,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“This girl doesn’t look like she’s twenty-one yet. If she’s not drinking age, either your theory is wrong or she was trying to pass as older.”

Shane frowned. “I wish I had my phlebotomy kit. I’d love to run a test of her blood-alcohol content.”

“Too bad there’s no I.D.”

Shane bit his lower lip and rested his chin on his fist. Only a few seconds passed before his eyes lit up. “I have an idea,” he said.

David grinned. “I’m not surprised.”

Shane pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He unfolded the dark blue material, revealing a pattern made up of the constellations. He bent next to the body and used the handkerchief to lift the girl’s hand before he glanced up.

David raised a single brow and nodded toward the handkerchief.

A deep blush ran across Shane’s cheeks. “The constellations have a lot of meaning in the occult. Besides, my grandmother gave it to me. I have to use it or she’ll get her feelings hurt.”

David chuckled. “I can’t very well fault a man for caring about his grandma. If mine gave me a pink flowered jacket, you better believe I’d wear it just to please her.”

Shane fought back a smile as he rubbed the handkerchief across the girl’s hand.

David’s eyes widened. “What are you doing? Shane, you can’t tamper with the crime scene.”

Shane ignored him and continued wiping at the girl’s skin. “Trust me.” Once he managed to clear most of the blood off, he said, “Look at this, David.”

David walked forward and crouched down beside him. The faint outline of a black X was visible on the top of the victim’s hand.

Shane stared at him with a sad look in his eyes. “That’s what they put on your hand at a club if you’re under twenty-one, so then the bartender knows not to serve you. It looks like she tried to wash it off.” He shook his head. “Someone hurting a young girl like this makes my blood boil.”

David nodded. “Me too.” He stood to his full height and turned away. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand looking at this poor girl. In his field, he didn’t often deal with dead bodies. Demons used their victims and then usually left them as catatonic shells of what they’d once been. Rarely did they take the time to kill their targets. He wasn’t sure which was worse. “You have everything you need for the report?”

Shane sighed. “Yeah, I do. We can go ahead and... Hey, what’s this?”

David turned around to find Shane holding the butt of a cigarette. The butt of a Marlboro Red. The two of them exchanged glances.

David let out a low growl. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Shane bit his lower lip. “Should we just throw it out? The cops haven’t found it yet, and they won’t if we dispose of it, so there’s no harm done, right?”

David shook his head and mumbled another string of profanities. “We have to turn it in. I already texted the picture of the crime scene to Damon. If he sees that in the shot, all our asses will be hung out to dry.”

The shit just wouldn’t stop piling up for Jace, would it? David shook his head. If he thought the phone conversation had been like pissing off an angry bull, he sure as hell didn’t want to be around when Damon got hold of Jace.

* * *

JACE MARCHED INTO the building and up the stairs. He reached his door and pressed his ear to the aged, splintery wood. Silence.

The huge knot in his stomach unraveled a little as he opened the door. Princess was still sitting on the bed, staring at him with those big brown eyes. The knot tightened again, and his stomach churned.

“Jace?” Her voice was soft and breathless—the sound of a lover’s whisper.

A jolt of electricity zipped down his spine, and his cock strained against his jeans. He loved hearing her say his name, and he longed to take her hard, claim her as his. He used every ounce of strength he possessed and forced himself to turn away. He closed the door without locking it, then walked into the “kitchen,” so he wouldn’t have to see her.

“Who were you talking about when you said you were nothing like ‘him’?” she asked.

He grabbed the whiskey again and chugged a few gulps.

“Jace?”

“Why do you care?” he barked, his words sounding more defensive than he’d intended.

“Can you just answer the question?”

He blinked several times, stunned at her boldness and her lack of fear. “How about you don’t push it further? All right?”

When she didn’t respond a sense of relief cleared his heightened nerves, but the knot in his chest kept on squeezing.

What was it about this woman that drove him mad, but made him feel like such a dick for wanting her? There couldn’t really be something to that whole mating bull she was talking about, could there? He frowned.

She’s a werewolf. She’s a werewolf. He repeated the mantra and focused on the image of his father, seared into his brain.

Over the years he’d envisioned the face of a werewolf seductress. With the bat of one eyelash, she’d stolen his father and ended his mother’s abuse, but left their family shattered. He squeezed his eyes shut and imagined Princess as that woman, that temptress. But the light in her warm eyes ruined everything. He wanted to hate her, but every instinct pushed him into her arms.

“McCannon. Is that Irish or Scottish?” The question wrenched him into the moment.

“What?”

“Your last name, is it Irish or Scottish?” Her voice carried from the other room with ease—loud and forceful, but still feminine.

“Why the hell does it matter?” He opened one of the cabinets and rummaged around, even though it was virtually bare. A can of soup. Some ramen noodles.

“I’d like to know.”

He settled on some bread and pulled a few slices of ham from the refrigerator. “Why in the world do you want to play twenty questions with a man who took you captive and now has you chained to a bed?” He slapped together a sandwich and bit into it.

“According to your alarm clock, we have ten minutes until the supernatural hour. It would make me a bit uneasy if I didn’t get to know you before we start...well, you know....”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to sell me, but I ain’t buying.” He finished the last bite of the sandwich, eating at light speed.

“Suit yourself. Believe me, I’m not seducing you, and if it were my decision, you’d walk out of this apartment or let me go. It would spare us both a lot of unpleasantness. But since you don’t believe me, you’ll have to see for yourself.”

His stomach growled. Ignoring her, he sifted through the cabinets again.

She sighed. “You could humor me a little. If I’m wrong, what will it hurt?”

He paused and gripped the cabinet handle a little too hard. “Irish.”

“See. Was that so difficult?”

He gritted his teeth. “Don’t push it.”

“If you’d like to know, I’m Italian.”

“No, I wouldn’t like to know.” His jaw clenched tighter.

“I, however, want to tell you. As I said, my name is Francesca. I’m Italian, born and raised here in Rochester. I own a dance studio, and when I can, I teach salsa classes myself. My favorite color is red, but I look best in blue, and I hate long walks on the beach.”

“A salsa-dancing werewolf?”

“Yes, an award-winning, salsa-dancing werewolf,” she said.

He leaned on the counter and rested his head in his hands. He thought of how she would look in one of those skimpy little dance costumes, her hips swinging, the flashy red beading on her round behind shaking, her leg muscles flexing as she moved in her spiked heels. His cock hardened, and his longing escalated. No other woman had ever driven him so crazy.

She’s a werewolf. She’s a werewolf.

A beautiful smell, like sweet gardenias, wafted into his nose and broke his resolve a little further. He was imagining this. Could the smell of her hair, her skin, literally reach out to him? Good Lord, his dick ached. He slammed his fist onto the countertop. A liquor bottle fell from the top shelf with a crash and shattered. The contents splashed over the counter and onto his shirt. Whiskey trickled onto the floor.

“What was that?” she called. Her voice rang in his ears like a melody, a siren’s call. What the hell?

She’s wrong. I’m not one of them.

“There is no fucking mating cycle, and it has nothing to do with me,” he muttered.

He paced from the kitchen to the living room and back. His shirt clung to his skin, sticky and damp. He lifted it over his head, ready to chuck it into the laundry bin. He turned around and froze.

She was sprawled across his bed, her spine arched and her chest rising with her quick breaths. A small moan escaped her lips as her eyes ran over his frame. Gold flecks blossomed in her irises as the darker side of her took control. A fire ignited under his skin, and he couldn’t stand it.

Unbuckling his leather belt, he stalked toward the bed. She spread her legs wide, and there was no mistaking what she wanted. For the first time in his life, he let the beast take hold.

* * *

BURNING, WHITE-HOT NEED.

Frankie’s core grew warmer, and she felt herself slicken, preparing for an uncontrollable orgasm. The red digits of the clock screamed the inevitable. 3:00 a.m. She was going to have wild sex with a man she barely knew, but she didn’t care. She wanted Jace inside her, his hands and lips and tongue exploring her.

Another wave of longing rolled through her as she admired him. A large masculine torso with ample amounts of muscle tapered down to a tight, firm ass. His chest alone was better than any fantasy she’d ever imagined. He prowled across the bed and joined her.

Her instincts reached out to him, and everything froze.

The electric current that shot through her whenever they touched spiked higher, leaving her wet and ready. Their eyes locked, and she admired the beautiful, gold flecks in his. The sound of the bed frame creaking sent her heart racing. His eyes filled with the hunger of a wolf.

He knelt over her, and her gaze traveled to his massive erection.

Good Lord Almighty.

Well-endowed didn’t even begin to describe it. He lowered himself over her, his hands on either side of her head. He ground his arousal into her hips, and she gasped.

“You just couldn’t keep quiet, could you?” He shoved harder against her. “You were begging me to screw you.”

“I—” Her voice was half moan, half whimper.

“And you knew I’d oblige.” He balanced himself on one hand and slid the other to her lower back, pulling her closer. He lowered his head to her ear. “You’re lucky I didn’t take you in the middle of that alley.”

Blazing heat radiated from every cell in her being, and she teetered on the edge of climax.

“I could make you come for hours.” He positioned his fingers outside her entrance. “Just like this.” He stroked between her legs, and her body seized.

She rode a release so intense her stomach muscles burned from the strain. She’d never come so quickly—and whether it was Jace, the mating call, or both, she didn’t care. All she wanted was him.

“Look at me.” He turned her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I can leave you chained or I can free you, then tie you back up. Whatever I want.” His lips grazed hers. “Do you know what that means?”

She inhaled sharply, incapable of forming words.

He let out a low growl. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” she panted.

He slid his face across her collarbone, his warm breath tickling her skin. “Ask me what it means.” He ran his tongue over her skin.

She gulped. “Wha...what does it mean?”

He nipped her earlobe. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t even gasp.

He grabbed her hair in his fist and ran his canine teeth over her neck. “It means you’re gonna take everything I give you.”

* * *

JACE’S HANDS TRAILED from her hair to her smooth thighs. His cock throbbed. He admired her pink slit.

His eyes wouldn’t leave her body, and he rubbed two fingers over her most sensitive flesh. Princess was gorgeous. She twitched beneath his touch, and he inhaled the smell of gardenias on her skin, mixed with the scent of her sex. His mouth watered, and he anticipated her taste.

He snaked his hand up her stomach and under her shirt, then slipped it over the delicate bones of her rib cage until he squeezed her tit. He rolled her nipple between his fingers. She gasped, and while she was distracted he sucked her between his lips and ran his tongue around her clit. She moaned and pushed her hips forward. He slid his tongue inside her, and her sweetness ran down his throat.