Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

Harsh, guttural Russian, the words spoken through
clenched teeth.
It’s so hot, I can barely stand it.
He flips me onto my back, pulls my bra off, flings it away,
and kisses me deeply, biting my lips. He’s breathing hard, and
his hands are shaking. I know he’s teetering out on a thin ledge
of self-control, just barely holding himself back because he’s
worried that if he lets go completely like I demanded, he’ll
hurt me.
That this huge, dangerous man can also be so sweet and
tender almost brings tears to my eyes.
I wrap my legs around his waist and kiss him back even
harder, pulling at his hair.
He bites my earlobe. My neck. My shoulder. I laugh
breathlessly, feeling crazed.
He kisses and nips his way down my body. I’d say
fondling, too, but his hands are rougher than that. Greedier. He
takes big handfuls of my flesh wherever he can, grasping my
breasts and hips, his mouth following the trail his fingers
blaze.
When he bites my inner thigh, I moan.
He freezes. Rasps, “Too much?”
“God, no. Don’t stop.”
He turns his face to my other thigh and sinks his teeth into
the tender flesh there, too. I arch my back, wanting his
demanding hot mouth in other places.
Like—there.
He gives me exactly what I’m arching up for, latching onto
my clitoris and pulling at it with his lips. I make a sound I’m
sure I’ve never made before, one of total delirium.
Then he flattens his hand over my belly to hold me down
and eats me to within an inch of my life as I lie there with my
legs spread, moaning and writhing, wantonly rocking my hips
against his face.