Then lower.
The slope between her breasts.
Then my hands were sliding along her ribcage, fingers tracing the edge of lace, as my mouth worshipped the dip between her breasts.
Her moan was breathy, high-pitched, unguarded. She squirmed again, one hand tangling in my hair, the other gripping the edge of the mattress.
“f***k, kitten,” I growled, unable to hold back the sound. “You’re perfect. Mine. And I’m going to ruin you baby..”
I mouthed over the lace, tongue flicking where I could feel the heat of her n****e beneath, and her whole body arched into me like a live wire. Her curse—sharp, beautiful—ripped through the tent like music.
Echo was howling in the back of my mind, feral with lust, claws scraping my spine.
Mate. Claim. Now.
No. Not yet. Not until she’s ready.
But goddammit,
