Page 80 of Luna


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She spins around, her eyes glinting in the moonlight, brimming with brimstone and unleashed wrath, untapped passion and pain, everything so beautiful that it hurts to look at her.

“At least he wants me,” she explodes again, with so much pent-up outrage that it slashes deeper than if she’d used a knife.

And the world tips on its axis.

Losing whatever laughable grasp I had left of my self-control, I back her hard against the door, my hand coming up to cradle her head, protecting it from banging against the wood.

Not that I’m thinking of that, because my mouth is on hers.

Hungry, desperate, so rough the taste of copper blooms almost immediately.

I kiss her like there’s no reason not to.

Like there aren’t a hundred thousand reasons that it’s the worst thing I could be doing.

Kiss her like if I don’t, in this spot, in this space and time, I’ll die.

She pushes against me, taking everything I give her, her hands scratching at my back, just as hungry and just as desperate, as my tongue finds her.

“Kingsley,” she whimpers against my lips.

A moan rumbles through my chest as I devour her mouth.

Dragging the breath from her lungs and into mine.

Until the lack of any real oxygen sears against my rib cage and we pull away.

She pants, her hand coming up to touch her bruised lips, her eyes frantic with desire.

“Don’t you ever say I don’t want you again,” I whisper, voice rough with my need for her, and crush my mouth against hers again.

Then, even though it hurts, I pull my mouth away and drag it down her neck, nibbling at the skin there, that sweet patch that feels like it was grown to unravel me.

Wedging my leg between her knees, she spreads them for me, her hips dropping as she moans with every nip of my teeth against her skin.

“Kingsley… please…” she murmurs, her voice like the hum of pure lust in my brain.

“Yes, Luna. My sweet moonshine girl,” I whisper, giving away my secret nickname for her.

I drink in her skin as I reach for the hem of her skirt and drag it up her thighs, my fingers digging into her. Without looking, I know I’m leaving dull red lines there, like I’m trying to burrow under her skin like she has done to me.

Her skirt resists as it stretches over her ass, and then it gives way as it pops over the curve of her ass.

My fingers instantly delve between her legs, tearing at her panties.

God.

I want her so badly I can taste my own arousal.

I can taste the way my cock is going to feel sinking into her sweet little pussy.

But not yet.

Letting her go, just for a moment, I hook my hands into her panties and drop to my knees, pulling them down her legs.

She looks down at me, eyes heavily hooded, lidded, thickened with need.

“Step out of your panties for me, Luna.”