Make You Burn by Megan Crane

and wild inside of her and careening into the pleasure somehow, all of it tangling together and turning white hot—
    And she lost herself all over again, and he was right, she screamed.
    Wordless and high, but it was still a scream.
    “Nice,” he said when she opened her eyes again, that smug grin on his face and that same bright hunger in his eyes. “Next time, try my name. It sounds better.”
    She rubbed at her face and her hands came away wet, and she had no idea if she’d cried or drooled or who even knew. She didn’t care.
    “You’re an awful, awful man.”
    “That’ll work, too.”
    He’d shifted while she was busy falling off the side of the world, pulling out of her and shoving his jeans the rest of the way off. Sophie sprawled there, trying to catch her breath, and he pushed her hair back from her face, that hard, needy thing still glittering there in his blue eyes.
    “Look at you,” he growled at her. “You’re a mess, little girl. Naked and crying on the living room floor. And I’m not done.”
    “Maybe I am.”
    His smile then was so wicked, so purely evil in all the best ways, that Sophie felt that flame inside of her spark anew and flicker higher.
    “Get on your hands and knees.”
    Sophie’s mouth fell open. She felt it. And more than that, she felt her body respond to him, that delicious shiver of heat that clenched hard in her pussy and then spread outward, making everything burn.
    Maybe she really was a junkie, after all. And he was the hit.
    And she just couldn’t seem to care about that, either.
    “What’s the matter?” His voice was a soft taunt. “Afraid you can’t keep up with me?”
    “You’re an old man,” she threw back at him. “How hard can it be?”
    He grinned at that, dark and wicked, and made a lazy circle in the air with his fingers, ordering her to turn over.
    Sophie felt like jelly. Her bones didn’t seem to work and her body didn’t want to obey her commands, and she thought he could tell. She heard him laugh as she rolled and then braced herself in position, her hands down in front of her and her knees somehow holding her up.
    “Fucking beautiful,” Ajax muttered, and then his hands were on her.
    Sophie closed her eyes and gave herself over to him. She felt him move behind her, felt his strong thighs behind hers. He ran his hands all over her back, tracing the angel wings she’d had tattooed there as her definitive act of defiance against her father when she’d been nineteen and Priest had still been treating her like she was a child.
    He hadn’t called her his angel for at least a year after that, he’d been so pissed, but she’d never regretted it.
    And she certainly didn’t regret it now, as Ajax licked his way across each wing as if they were made out of sugar, making her tense a bit beneath him and sway, like that might move him along when he was clearly playing.
    He followed the length of her spine with his mouth, the scratch of his beard and the heat of his tongue making her shift restlessly beneath him. He kept going when he reached her ass, setting his teeth against one cheek and grabbing a fistful of the other. She felt him growl against her, felt it vibrate through her whole body and particularly into her clit, and she shifted again.
    He replaced his mouth with his other hand.
    “Put your head on the floor,” he gritted out.
    Sophie didn’t think. She obeyed.
    Ajax spread her open, and he wasn’t gentle, and then he closed his mouth over her pussy and sucked. Hard.
    Sophie cried out, but he was only getting started. He ate her. He was ferocious and he was thorough. He opened his mouth and got sloppy, his beard the rough counterpoint to his wicked tongue against her clit and the things he could do with that mouth.
    He left her shuddering, her hands in fists on the floor next to her face, and then he licked his way up again, but this time, he stopped to tease the tight little bud between her ass cheeks.
    Sophie made a keening, impossible