Page 43 of Gilded Shackles
Elle's breath changes. She's been waiting for this moment. Dreading it. Rehearsing whatever she was going to say.
I don't ask.
I lower my head and press my mouth to the wounds that had bled. Once. Twice. I feel the tension bleed out of her legs and her hand comes up to cover her face.
She doesn't make a sound. But her chest shakes once.
I stay there a moment longer than I need to. My thumb traces the edge of the marks.
Then I look up at her.
"She won't touch you again."
Not a promise. A fact.
Elle uncovers her face. Her eyes are dry but wrecked. She looks at me like she doesn't know what category to put me in.
Good. I don't know either.
"Now," I say quietly. "Where were we."
She lets out a soft moan when I hook my fingers into her panties and tug them down. She's wet. No, screw that. She's soaked. Drenched.
I look up at her face. Eyes half-closed. Cheeks burning. Like she should feel ashamed. But I'm not having that. Not in my bed. Not with the most beautiful woman I've ever put my hands on.
I grip her hips. Lower my head.
And taste her.
Her thighs jolt the second my tongue hits her. A choked gasp tears from her throat, wild and startled, the sound of a woman who wasn't expecting pleasure this fast, this deep, this deliberate.
I pin her hips with one hand, keeping her exactly where I want her, and drag my tongue in one slow line from bottom to top. She shudders so violently the mattress shifts.
I exhale against her. Savoring. Then I wrap my mouth around her clit and suck, and the scrape of my beard against her inner thighs makes her cry out so loud the sound echoes off the ceiling.
Raw. Uncontrolled. Real.
I don't look up. I shake my head against her and go right back to devouring her like the rest of the world doesn't exist.
Her hips try to buck. I press them harder into the mattress. Her breathing turns frantic. I go slower. Tongue soft now, almost teasing, tracing lazy circles until her fingers tangle in my hair and pull.
"Nikolai..."
It's barely my name. More plea than word.
I slide one finger inside her. Curl it. Find the spot.
Her head flies back. Her fist slams the sheets. Her body doesn't know what to do with itself except shake.
I add a second finger. Stroke deeper. My tongue never stops.
"Please," she gasps. "I can't. I can't."
"Yes you can." I growl it into her. "Give it to me."
She breaks.
Her entire body arches, back bowing off the mattress, toes curling, and she comes hard. So hard she tries to close her thighs around my head, but I hold her open and make her ride every last wave of it.
