In For the Kill by Shannon McKenna Page B

A quick jerk scooted her body to the edge of the bed, so he could fold her legs up and kneel there. “I swear, I won’t touch the sore part. I’ll concentrate on your clit. Okay?”
    Hah. Sam Petrie licking between her legs was not an event that could be described as “okay.” But that and all other thoughts fizzed into vapor the instant his mouth touched her.
    Too much, at first. His tongue slid between her sensitive folds, provoking a jittery explosion that made her cry out. But her body adjusted, reframing the sensation into a lovely swirl of liquid heat.
    She rose to meet his caressing tongue. She glowed like moonlight on water, crested like sea waves, surged like froth and foam. Sam followed every cue before she even gave it, lavishing long, lingering licks and swirls over her shivering pussy. He suckled and flirted, teased her with maddening flicks and trills, building the charge with masterful slowness, to a screaming point of intensity—and then letting it drift gently down. Again, and again. Until she was desperate.
    When she pitched over the edge, each pulse of the wrenching explosion jolted her deeper into that place inside where she could feel it all. The infinite depths, the heart-breaking sweetness. A fleeting, whirling glimpse of all that ever was beautiful and true, or ever could be.
    Her eyes fluttered open sometime later. She blinked at the ceiling. Her eyes were wet. She struggled to remember even who she was. She did not recognize this self, these sensations. She was not even remotely familiar with the place from which she’d just drifted so softly down.
    The blankness lasted just long enough to feel a stab of anxiety about it. Then everything came rushing back.
    Sam sat cross-legged next to her. His hand cupped her muff, cradling it as if it belonged to him. “You’re incredible when you let go.”
    She was abashed. “Did I yell?”
    â€œMmmm.” He scooped her legs up and nudged until she scooted over to make room for him. He twitched the comforter up. It settled over them, soft as a cloud. His body was so long, hot. A bulwark against the night. He pulled her close against him, chest-to-chest, legs entangled.
    They stared at each other. The silence felt heavy, and dangerous. Charged with all the things that they didn’t dare to say. Afraid to spoil the fragile sweetness of the moment. It made her throat ache.
    He smoothed a lock of hair back off her forehead. “You taste amazing,” he said. “I could lick you forever. I think I could live on that alone. Just sweet, juicy Sveti lube. My magical elixir.”
    She shook with laughter that could just as quickly turn to tears. Tears lurked around every corner, ready to ambush her. It was very strange. She was not a person who cried easily. Or at all, really.
    He was erect again. His penis pressed against her belly. She grasped him. He went rigid, with a sharp, silent gasp. She cupped his balls. His penis jumped and twitched in her hand.
    â€œJesus,” he muttered. “That wasn’t enough for you?”
    â€œYou don’t seem to need rest,” she observed.
    â€œYou do.” He pried her hands off, pinning them against her chest.
    She stroked him, long and slow and tight. “Make love to me.”
    His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “I’m on to you now, babe,” he said. “You want me to fuck all coherent thought out of your head again, right? Felt good, didn’t it? To take a little break from the weight of the world, even if it’s only a few seconds?”
    She yanked at her trapped hands. “I did not expect you to—”
    â€œYou don’t want any uncomfortable silences, either,” he went on. “You might actually have to talk to me. Oh, the horror.”
    â€œLet go!” She yanked harder. “Now you’re just being an asshole !”
    â€œOh, for fuck’s sake, let me have my little tantrum,” he