My Sinful Valentine (A Beautiful Sinners Collection) Elena Reyes (good story books to read .TXT) 📖

“Relax.” One word is all he says a second before strong arms wrap around my waist and I’m pulled against the owner of the voice. His muscled chest is to my back, his lips at my ear. “Everyone’s fine.”

“Where are we?” It’s a breathless whisper, goose bumps rising across my flesh.

“Unimportant at the moment, Bebe.” Lips trace up from just below my ear to my temple, leaving a fiery trail of kisses that never fail to make me weak. But then again, everything Thiago does affects me. His mere existence is my undoing. “There’s something I need first.”

“What’s that?” A whimper escapes and he chuckles; my body leans against his in surrender.

“I need your lips on mine. I need to taste you, beautiful.”

“You never have to ask, Thiago. I’m yours.” Before the last words pass through my lips, I’m turned around and my husband’s lips are on mine. His kiss is tinged with hunger and the animalistic urgency to devour me, while my body reacts to his fire with a whimpering plea.

Of more. For everything.

“My queen.” He’s aggressive in his hold of me, the hand on my hip slipping down my thigh where he digs his blunt nails in. Then there are the fingers in my hair, tilting my head to the side—dominating me and the pace of the kiss. “Mine. All motherfucking mine.”

He’s everywhere.

He’s harsh nips and then gentle sweeps of his tongue across my lower lip before slipping back inside to caress my tongue.

He’s a growl of hunger against my moan—my arching into his strong chest.

“I want you.” I’m not the least bit ashamed of the way I rub myself against him. Not the least bit concerned with anyone watching us.

I trust him to keep us safe and I give up control, showing my desire without restraint. But just as my hand wanders to the button of his shorts, Thiago pulls back and shakes his head.

My brows furrow while my core clenches in need. “What do you mean—”

“Just close your eyes, Luna.” The look in his eyes, the obsession that promises pleasurable pain, is almost enough to make me come. My nipples tighten into stiff peaks and the gusset of my panties is ruined. Completely soaked. Christ, he’s handsome. “Can you do that for me?”

“Thiago, please—”

“Close them.” His voice is harsh, gravelly, and I’m close to begging him to take me here when he places two fingers over my lids. The world darkens a bit behind my eyelids, the sun’s rays making the flesh a bit red, but before the kaleidoscope begins to swirl from the lighting effect, I feel his hot breath against my heat.

His lips are against my clit. His inhale and exhale are making me throb, and just when I’m about to complain, he bites my mound over the lace.

“Oh, fuck me,” I cry out, feeling sensitive, like a shock of electricity kisses my clit, and every erogenous nerve ending pulses. One touch. Just one and I’m slick, thighs trembling while the cocky bastard chuckles at my state.

I don’t dare open my eyes.

I can’t look down and not react.

Not that my husband gives me a chance to as my underwear are gripped from behind and pulled, rubbing harshly against the swollen flesh of my pussy. He holds the fabric tight in his grip, digging it in to the point I hiss out, and the feel of his tongue licking my inner thighs pulls another rush of wetness from me.

Thiago groans at this. His nose nuzzles my right leg at the crease where my thigh and core meet. “You smell delicious, Luna. Like my favorite dessert.”

“Papi, don’t...oh fuck!” I cry out, shooting out both hands to grab his hair—I tug at the soft strands to find my balance. He tore the lace bottoms from my body, the tattered fabric now lying at the ankle of my left foot while my right thigh is over his shoulder.

I’m open to him. At his mercy, and he loves it.

For as much as Thiago loves to romance me, he likes to dominate me in bed. To make me his plaything.

“So pretty,” he says, his warm breath sweeping across my wet labia before warm lips lay a tiny kiss on each. It’s a sweet gesture that contradicts his possessive hold on my thigh, the way he rubs the five o’clock shadow on his chin across my clit and lower. “So soft.”

I’m not given a chance to respond—to take in a breath—when his face is pressed against me and his mouth takes the first long lick. From clit to entrance, Thiago tastes me and then the animal I know and love takes over.

He’s no longer calm. Now he’s all instinct and urgency; I will gladly pay the price for his hunger every day for the rest of my life. My husband’s grip on my thigh hardens and my eyes flash open, meeting his hooded ones.

Lips at my clit, he suckles the bundle of nerves before flicking my wet flesh. “I want you to watch me eat this pretty little cunt.” My walls clench at his dirty mouth, and he smirks before nipping my lips. “I want you to bathe me, Luna. I want you to give me what’s always been mine.”

“All of me belongs to you.”

“My perfect girl. My wife.” Thiago’s words are reverent, full of so much love and devotion that my heart clenches. I want to throw myself in his arms and kiss him—show him that my feelings for him are just as insane and deep, but before I can, the pleasure only he can give overtakes me.

I’m drowning in ecstasy. I’m lost to him.

And he’s rabid with desire.  Consumed by lust and on the second pass of his tongue across my slit, one of his large hands smacks my backside. The sting