Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

KAYCE

He's fucking delusional. That's the only explanation. Grabbing me in a cemetery, tying me to a headstone, stripping me from my clothes, and then thinking I'm actually going to beg him to fuck me.

He's fucking crazy.

"Don't believe me?" His deep voice vibrates against my skin as he kisses down my soft stomach to my thighs. His face rests against my panties as he draws in a deep breath and exhales, "I can smell your sweet arousal. Your body knows how badly you want me, even if you haven't figured it out. You'll be my dirty little fuck toy before tonight is over; I'm sure of it."

Something about him is familiar, but between trying to keep my composure, the panic raging through me, and a myriad of thoughts racing through my head, I just can't seem to place it .

He places a soft kiss over my panty-covered pussy. A sputtered breath falls from my mouth when his lips drag over the fabric just hard enough that I can faintly feel them against my clit. In response, he lets out a short, deep growl. It vibrates to everywhere I'm telling myself I don't want him—even if it is a lie—and I can't hold back the moan that rattles from my lungs.

"You like my mouth on you. The way it feels against your sweet cunt." He places another, firmer kiss, and my thighs tremble. "How many nights have you spent dreaming about what my tongue will feel sliding through your pussy? Because I've spent every fucking night for months wondering what you taste like."

He pants against me, his rapid hot breaths wafting over my pussy and thighs as he continues to nuzzle his face against them. "To finally be this fucking close, it's fucking torture not to bury my face in you. I'm going to relish in the taste of you until your thick, creamy thighs squeeze around my head as you come all over my tongue. And when I've finally had my fill of feasting on you, I'll fulfill the rest of your morbid little fantasy."

Grave?

He's the only person I ever shared that with.

Every logical thought running through my mind is begging me to fight him. To scream for help. But as I relax and let my thighs fall open, I realize logic has no place here. His tongue licks slowly and hard against my panties and up the entire length of my pussy until the tip of it flicks across my clit. Hooking a finger under the wet fabric, he pulls my panties to the side and coaxes, "I'm going to need to hear you say it."

I suck in a deep breath and implore, "Please."

"Are you begging me?" he teases as he places a wet kiss against the bare mound of my pussy.

"Yes," I groan, barely finishing the word before he's licking and sucking at me. He moans against me as though I am the most delectable thing he's ever tasted, and he continues to lap at me like he'll never get enough.

And fuck, does it all ever feel good.

Gripping the ropes binding my arms above my head, I pull at them as he expertly brings me to the edge.

"Are you going to scream my name when I make you come?" He kisses the words against my clit between the firm laps of his tongue. I don't get a chance to answer. He licks and sucks at my clit, silently demanding that I come for him.

"Fuck… Grave… Please… Fuck!" I cry out as my entire body courses with a wave of pleasure.

I tremble as he continues to tease my clit. Wrapping his muscular arms around my thighs, he pulls me tighter, and my hips writhe against his face as he relentlessly licks and sucks at me. "I want my face fucking covered in you by the time I stop, cinnamon," he groans from between my thighs.

It really is him …

"Grave," I moan his name and tug at my restraints, desperately needing to touch him. Wanting to lace my fingers through his jet-black hair as he devours me. To pull this hood from my head so that I can see him and know that he's real.

"One more on my tongue," he demands, as though he can read my mind. "And then I'll give you everything you want."