Urban God of Rebate: Infinite Returns Of Women And Powers

Her hand was still on his jaw when she kissed him.

Not tentative. Not the cautious first press of someone testing the temperature. Priya kissed him like she’d already made the decision, which she had, and was simply following it through to its conclusion. Her mouth was warm and certain, and when she parted her lips against his there was no hesitation in it. Just the soft give of her and the specific closeness of someone who had put the line to April down outside the door.

Sean’s hand found her waist. Not grabbing. Just resting there, feeling the warmth of her through the soft cotton of the white shirt. She made a small sound against his mouth, something quiet and involuntary, and her fingers tightened on his jaw. The lamp on the desk cast their shadows long across the cabin wall.

She pulled back just enough to look at him. Her dark eyes were wide in the lamplight, her breathing already changed.

”I’ve thought about this,” she said quietly. ”Since the lake this morning.”

”Thought about what,” he said, though he knew.

”Whether you’d taste like the coffee from breakfast or something else,” she said. ”You taste like something else.”

”What,” he said.

”I don’t know yet,” she said. ”I’m still figuring it out.”

She kissed him again, deeper this time, and her free hand came up to the back of his neck. Her fingers slid into his hair. The gesture was possessive in a way that surprised him, the specific confidence of someone who had spent years being deliberate and was now letting that deliberateness become something physical.

Sean’s hand moved from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her closer. She shifted on the bed, turning into him, and her knee came up against his thigh. The white shirt had ridden up slightly. He could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric.

”Sean,” she breathed against his mouth.

”Yeah.”

”I need you to know something.”

He pulled back just far enough to see her face. Her lips were slightly swollen now, her composure cracking at the edges in the way he’d imagined it might.

”I’m not a virgin,” she said. ”But I’ve only done this once. Two years ago. It was quick and awkward and I spent most of it thinking about whether I’d left my laptop charger in the library.” She paused. ”This is different.”

”Different how,” he said.

”Different because I want to remember all of it,” she said. She held his gaze. ”So go slow. I want to feel everything.”

”Okay,” he said.

She studied him for a moment, then her mouth curved slightly. ”You say okay like it’s a contract.”

”It is,” he said. ”Between us. Tonight.”

Something shifted in her expression. Not relaxation exactly, but the specific settling of someone who had been waiting for permission to want what she wanted.

She reached down and pulled the white shirt over her head.

She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Sean’s breath caught in a way he didn’t bother to hide. Her breasts were small and perfect, the brown of her nipples dark against her warm skin. In the lamplight she looked like something painted by someone who understood that restraint created its own kind of intensity. She sat there, letting him look, her dark hair falling over one shoulder.

”You’re beautiful,” he said.

”I know,” she said, but there was a flush at her throat. ”But I like hearing it from you.”

He reached out and touched her collarbone, running his fingers down to the swell of her breast. She shivered under his hand. Her nipple hardened against his palm.

”Lie back,” he said.

She did. Her head found the pillow and she watched him with those dark, intelligent eyes as he leaned over her. He kissed her throat, her collarbone, the spot just above her heart. Her pulse was fast. Her breathing came quicker.

When he took her nipple into his mouth she made a sound she clearly hadn’t meant to make. A soft, broken inhale. Her hand came up and covered her face.

”Don’t,” he said gently. ”Don’t hide from me.”

”I’m not hiding,” she said, but didn’t move her hand.

”Priya.”

Slowly, she lowered her hand. Her eyes were bright. He could see the vulnerability in her, the specific exposure of someone who never let anyone see her like this.

”Good,” he said. ”That’s good.”

He went back to her breast while his hand traveled lower. Over the curve of her belly, the sharp plane of her hip, the soft skin of her inner thigh. She tensed when his fingers found the waistband of her trousers. But she didn’t stop him. She lifted her hips instead, helping him pull them down.

Then she was bare before him, completely, and he paused to look at her.

She was already wet. The lamplight caught the shine of her arousal on her inner thighs. Her cunt was dark and perfect, and the sight of her like this, spread out and wanting, made him harder than he’d been in a long time.

”Sean,” she said. Her voice had gone low, almost rough.

”I want to taste you,” he said.

She swallowed. ”Okay.”

He positioned himself between her legs, kissing a path down her belly. When his mouth reached the inside of her thigh she flinched, a full-body shudder running through her. Her hands fisted in the bedsheets. He could feel the tension in her muscles.

”Relax,” he murmured against her skin. ”I’ve got you.”

Then he put his mouth on her.

The sound she made was something he would think about for a long time. A raw, involuntary moan that seemed to be torn from somewhere deep. Her hips bucked against his face and he held her steady, his hands on her thighs, keeping her open for him.

He licked her slowly. Long strokes through the wet heat of her, and her moans came in the rhythm of his tongue. Her fingers found his hair again, gripping hard.

”Sean,” she panted. ”Sean, that’s—”