Page 142 of The Auction
“Killian won’t let anyone past those doors.” My mouth finds her neck, tasting, marking.
“You sent him?” Her voice cracks, almost a sob.
“I did. I sent him.”
Kiss.
“I send biscuits and gravy.”
Kiss.
“I sent a bouquet of lilies.”
Kiss.
“I sent a goddamn army to fight a war all night for daring take my girl.”
She sobs.
“I needed to know you were safe until I could get here.” I press more kisses along her jaw, her collarbone. “And Lucian owes me. I cashed in a few favors.”
Her hands grip my face, pulling me back to her mouth. “Thank you.”
I kiss her hard, my voice rough against her lips. “You never have to thank me for protecting what’s mine.”
She trembles, and I can’t tell if it’s from relief or the way I’m looking at her. Probably both.
I slip my hand past the waistband of her panties feeling how fucking wet she is.
“Fuck.”
She gasps when I drag my mouth up her throat, when my fingers run through her wet cunt and I slide two inside her. “We’re in a church.”
“You think this is wrong?” I murmur, my lips brushing her ear. “I don’t fucking care. Let them damn us for it.”
Her breath hitches, a smile tugging at her mouth. “We’re going to hell for this.”
I smirk against her skin as I move my fingers in and out of her. “Sounds like fun… as long as you go with me.”
I pull my fingers from her and slip them into my mouth, groaning as her taste coats my tongue.
“Fuck…” I savor it, dragging my teeth over my knuckles before letting them go. “I need to taste you, baby.”
Ikiss her—hard, filthy—so she can taste herself on my lips, and walk her backward until the back of her thighs hit the first pew. Her gaze drops to my mouth, and I see it—the hunger, the way her pupils blow wide when she knows what I’m about to do.
“I have an idea,” I murmur, my grin slow and deliberate.
I reach up, pulling the comb from her hair, letting the veil slip to the floor. It pools around her heels like a surrender flag. She’s standing there in only her bra, panties, and those fucking heels that make my blood run hot.
I make quick work of the bra, then hook my fingers into her panties and drag them down her legs, tossing them aside.
Lowering myself to the ground, I lean back until my head rests against the polished wood of the pew. I spread my knees, patting the space between them.
“Get that pussy up here and let me worship you.”
Her breath catches, but she does as she’s told—one knee on the pew beside my head, then the other. I wrap my hands around her thighs, pulling her down until she’s hovering right where I want her.
The first taste hits my tongue like a drug. I groan against her, holding her in place as I drag my mouth over her, slow at first, then deeper, hungrier.
