Sins of the Flesh

This wasn’t just about sex. This was…something more, though he couldn’t—wouldn’t—put a name to it right now.

Leaning back, he tipped his head and looked up at her. Her pupils were dilated, her irises darkened to jade. She wet her lips, swollen from his kisses. Her nipples were full and pink and so pretty that he couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and sucked first one then the other, leaving them wet.

Panting, she watched him. He leaned back and held her gaze as he ran his palms up the insides of her thighs, pushing her legs wider, and finally sliding his palms up to cup her buttocks.

“My way,” he reminded her as she made a halfhearted gesture, as though she meant to deny him.

Without waiting for a reply, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her mound, let his tongue trace her sweet, wet folds. She jerked. Cried out. And he only tightened his hold on her buttocks and angled her hips a little forward so he could kiss her and lick her.

Her scent, hot and ready, drove him wild. And his tongue drove her wild as he stroked her again and again; he read her response in the thrust of her hips and the gasps of pleasure that came low and breathy. Whatever protests she might have made drifted away.

Beneath his hands, he felt her muscles twitch and tremble. He shifted his hand and slid a finger inside her hot, tight sheath. She bucked against him, and he felt it in his dick, so hard and ready he was crazy for her.

“You’re so wet. So ready. Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck.”

He ran his tongue along her one last time as he flicked open the button of his jeans and dragged down the zipper. Then he was free and she was so sweet and hot.

Letting his weight fall back on his heels, he pulled her toward him, guiding her thighs down on both sides of his. He surged up as her weight came down, and her soft, pliant sex opened against his shaft.

Her lips parted. Her breath came out on the softest exhale.

Blood pounded through his veins.

Reaching between them, he fisted himself and shifted the angle as he lifted her.

He squeezed her buttocks and thrust up as she came down. The head of his dick slid inside.

She gave a low, sexy hum of approval.

When she tried to take control, to take him fully inside her, he closed his hands on her ass—fuck, her ass drove him wild—and held her where she was. He teased her, letting her take just a little, then a little more, until she was panting and writhing and digging her nails into his shoulders.

Head thrown back, body arched, she was pagan and gorgeous.

He gave her what she wanted, surging up to fully sheath himself inside her to the music of her throaty moan.





CALLIOPE CLUNG TO MAL’S shoulders. He had one hand under her buttocks and the other looped around the small of her back as he brought her up, then down. She rode him, the width of his penis stretching her, filling her. The sensation was lush, wonderful, a gorgeous invasion that made her want to move faster, push harder.

He didn’t let her. He guided the rate and the depth, making her feel wild and out of control. Waves of pleasure poured through her.

Dipping his head, Mal drew on her nipple, teasing her, making her arch to offer him more. He used his tongue, his lips, then his teeth, taking his time as he moved from one breast to the other, pushing deep inside her, making her burn.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and yanked back, giving her access to his mouth. She kissed him, her tongue sliding into his mouth, keeping time to the thrust of his penis.

Drawing back, she looked at him, his face hard and savage, teeth bared, eyes slitted. He was glorious in his passion. Wild. Feral.

Tension coiled, a knot at her core. Her breasts ached. Her sex ached. She was strung so tight, so close to the edge—

With a growl, he surged forward, tumbling her onto her back on the floor, her hips and thighs bent so she was spread wide for his pleasure. And he took that pleasure, and gave back in equal degree, pumping deep and sure.

She felt as though she was flying and unraveling. As if she was someone else. Her reactions were far beyond her control, and that coiled yearning was about to burst. She had never experienced anything like this. She’d never allowed herself the freedom to let go.

She’d never before been with anyone who’d made her want to let go.

Her power surged, as did his. She felt it inside her. She felt hers move into him, blending and sparking like a live wire.

She was open to him, in his thrall, the pressure and need growing and surging.

Reaching between their bodies with fingers sure and slick, he pressed against her clitoris as he moved deep and hard, in, out, the rhythm set to his pace.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. It was so close and she was so—