Page 29 of Devil’s Candy

I hear the door click. He pushes it open, and I only have a moment to appreciate the space—a generous loft with vaulted ceilings and tons of light—before my back lands on a couch, his body on top of mine.

His mouth devours mine again, his hips pumping into the V of my legs. I rub against him, loving the friction, but wishing that we had on less clothes, that I could feel him inside me.

He rears up, pulling at my long-sleeve shirt.

I wriggle underneath him, helping him get it up over my head and off my arms.

“Move like that again, and you won’t be getting out of my bed for a week,” he growls as he stares down at me.

“Promise?”

That draws a small smile from his lips even as he undoes the button on my jeans, pulling the tight fabric down my legs. When he gets them off, he lies on me again, kissing a path down my chest and belly.

I dig my fingertips into his shirt, wishing I could put divots in his skin. For some reason, I want to mark him. Leave my memory on his skin.

When he reaches the top of my underwear, he hooks his fingers in either side, but doesn’t pull them down my legs. Instead, he makes them tighter so they’re pressing right where I ache. I whimper, rolling my hips underneath him.

He drops his face down to the thin fabric, sucking my clit into his mouth, underwear and all. It’s so good, I scream, a powerful pulse of pleasure racing through me.

I start thumping his shoulder, hardly able to draw in enough air as I push out. “Take off your shirt. I want to feel your skin.”

He makes this satisfied noise deep in his throat before he lifts up again, ripping his shirt off his body. “You want to feel my skin against your thighs while I make you cum?”

“I don’t want to cum yet.” I shake my head, my chest heaving up and down. “I want to touch you.”

He rips his pants down his thighs, his cock springing out at me. They’re still around his knees, but I’m up, curling my body up and then forward, so that I come to my stomach, my tongue darting out to lick the precum from the tip.

“Fucking hell, Candy.”

“You’re not sweet, you’re salty,” I say, referencing his earlier comment about my taste.

“Take more of me in, double check,” he grunts, winding his hand into my hair as he pushes his mushroom head between my lips.

I open wider, letting him slide into my mouth, my tongue gliding along the veined ridge. Hollowing out my cheeks, he keeps going until he hits the back of my throat.

It’s a lot, but I grab his hip, holding him there as his fists tighten in my hair.

When he finally pulls out, my eyes are watering, my mouth already feeling well used. “What the fuck?” he grits out before he bends down and kisses my mouth, quick and fierce and then he’s back up, pushing his cock back into my mouth.

I take him again, swallowing down all of him a second time and then a third before he lifts up and flips me onto my back once again.

This time when he fists my underwear, he rips them off. Spreading my knees, he slams into me with a force that makes my back molars snap together.

My bra is still on and my socks too. But I barely notice as I wrap my arms and legs around him, inviting him deeper.

My body tells him what my lips are afraid to say.

He can use me as much as he wants. I’d burn myself to the ground for him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sver

I look down at Candy, tears on her cheeks, her nose red, her mouth looking swollen and bruised as she arcs up to open herself even more to me.

I wrap my hands around her waist, pulling her hips tighter to mine so that I’m deep inside her, I’ve never felt so wrapped in a woman.

What Candy and I are doing isn’t sex. I guess that’s incorrect, it is in every way the act. But it’s not like any sex I’ve ever had before. It’s a joining, where her body is completely and utterly open to me.