Bitten by Ecstasy

By: Naima Simone



Gasping, she tore her mouth free, nipped his bottom lip hard enough for the spark of pain to sing through his veins. He fucking loved it.

Strong white teeth raked over his chin, his jaw, and down his throat. He arched into the caress, his hips rolling beneath her, demanding, begging for the wet heat of her sex. The tight clasp of her pussy. Crazy was a very real possibility if she didn’t glove his dick within her tight, slick core.

As if she had plucked the desperate thoughts from his mind, she lifted an eyebrow and slid farther down, her tongue peeking out to trail a damp path over his smooth chest. In spite of the need baying like a fucking hound inside him, a corner of his mouth lifted. She refused to be hurried and the languid circle she drew around his nipples jabbed the point home. Her lashes lifted, and her silver gaze scolded him as she grazed the small, beaded tip with her teeth then suckled. Hard.

Slowly, he released his grip on her hair. Raised his arms above his head and fisted the headboard railings. Either hold on tight or snatch her up and plunge his cock deep inside her.

She traveled lower, sweeping across his taut abdomen, dipping into his shallow navel. He shivered, not at the faint tickle but at the direction of her exploring mouth and tongue. Pleasure and anticipation spiraled in his gut, pooled in his erection. He widened his thighs, granting her more room to inch down between his legs. Her moist pants seared the skin over his hipbones.

“Damn it,” he growled as the hard tips of her nipples scraped his inner thighs. Lust—pure, blazing, tearing lust—poured through him in an overwhelming current of desire and greed. “Don’t tease. Suck me.” His hips bucked, punctuating the order. The plea.

Maybe she’d decided to cease torturing him. Maybe she’d determined he’d suffered long enough. Or maybe—just maybe—she wanted him in her mouth as much as he needed to be there. Whatever the reason, she capitulated, swallowed him in the scorching cavern of her mouth.

His back arched like a bow strung tight. The circular knobs along the railings bore into his palms as he strangled the wood. He locked the harsh bellow razing his throat behind his teeth. Each strong suck, every slow lick shoved him closer and closer to insanity. Sharp talons clawed the underside of his skin, his beast roaring for release. Howling with the primitive call to stake its claim. To dominate, cover. Take.

She lapped at his cock head then pursed her lips and drew him in, swirling her tongue over and under the sensitive cap.

“More,” he rasped. “Fuck.” He strained against his self-imposed reins. “Give me more.”

With a sweet moan that vibrated down his rigid, aching length, she rose to her knees and engulfed several more inches of his cock. Blistering. Wet. His shout rebounded off the ceiling and walls. He stared down his chest and abdomen. Shit. Her beautiful, swollen lips formed a tight ring around his dick, and watching his flesh shuttle in and out of her mouth added to the ecstasy. The utter rapture.

Electricity sizzled up his body then charged back down, crackling in the soles of his feet, the base of his spine before sizzling in his balls.

“Harder,” he snarled, his hips surging, rolling, fucking her mouth. “Suck harder. Don’t hold back with me.”

Her mercury gaze flicked up to meet his, the heat in the smoldering depths singing his skin, his soul. When her lashes lowered, the promise of pleasure, of oblivion remained imprinted on his brain.

The looming orgasm zoomed in, dragging him closer and closer to the edge.

“Baby,” he rasped. The wooden rails splintered above him. Fire raced over him. Swelled in his cock. Gut. Chest. Mouth…

Hunger.

Burning. Agonizing.

Ravenous.

The relentless craving scalded his gut. Razed a path up his chest and clawed at his throat.

Bastien Sarris jerked up from the bed, his mouth stretched wide around a soundless roar.

He stared into the yawning darkness, his eyes wide, unblinking, harsh rasps escaping his lips.

A dream. His chest heaved. That damn dream again. Yet lust drummed in his veins, thick, hot and voracious. Blood thumped in his cock, coinciding with the rapid pounding of his heart. One touch. His hand trailed over his chest, slid over his taut abdomen. One touch would set him off, take care of the throbbing ache… He snarled, fisted his hand and slammed it into the mattress. Just the dregs of the memory were enough to kick-start an ominous rumble in his gut.

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