House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2) by Sarah J. Maas

Lightning skittered around the room. She didn’t need to look to know he’d severed the camera wires, and likely had a wall of power blocking the door. Didn’t need to do anything other than enjoy the sensation of his tongue on her throat, teasing and tasting.

She couldn’t stop the hands that slid into his hair, driving through the sweaty strands, all the way down his head until they landed on the nape of his neck. She drew him closer as she did so, and Hunt lifted his head from her neck to claim her mouth.

Her legs opened wider, and he settled between them, pressing hard as his tongue met hers.

Bryce groaned, tasting apple and that storm-kissed cedar scent that was pure Hunt, grinding herself against his demanding hardness. With his gym shorts and her skintight leggings, there was no hiding his erection, or the dampness that soaked through her pants.

His tongue tangled with hers, hands dropping from her waist to cup her ass. She gasped as his fingers dug in, pulling her harder against him, and she hooked her legs around his middle. She couldn’t taste him deep enough, fast enough.

His shirt came off, and then she was running her fingers over those absurd abs and side abs and pecs, down the shifting muscles of his back, frantic and desperate to touch all of him.

Her tank top peeled away, and then his teeth nipped at the swells of her breasts above the seafoam green of her sports bra, the fabric almost neon against her tan skin.

He bracketed her waist, calluses scraping her skin as he tilted her back, and Bryce let him lay her on the counter. She propped herself up on her elbows as he pulled away, graceful as an ebbing tide, hands running from her breasts to her sweaty stomach.

Hunt’s fingers curled over the waistband of her black leggings, but paused. His gaze lifted to hers in silent request.

At the black fire she beheld there, the sheer beauty and size and perfection of him …

“Hel yes,” she said, and Hunt grinned wickedly, rolling down her leggings. Exposing her midriff. Then her abdomen. Then the lacy top of her amethyst thong. Her pants and underwear were soaked with sweat—she didn’t want to imagine what they smelled like—and she opened her mouth to tell him so, but he’d already knelt.

He pulled off her sneakers, then her socks, then the leggings. Then gently, so gently, he took her right ankle and kissed its inside. Licked at the bone. Then at her calf. The inside of her knee.

Oh gods. This was going to happen. Right here, in the middle of the building gym where anyone could fly past the wall of windows twenty feet away. He was going down on her right here, and she needed it more than she’d ever needed anything—

His tongue traced circles along the inside of her right thigh. Higher and higher, until she was shaking. But his hands slid up, looping through the waistband of her thong. He pressed a kiss to the front of her underwear, and she could have sworn he shuddered as he inhaled.

Bryce went liquid, unable to stop her writhe of demand, and Hunt huffed a warm laugh against her most sensitive place, kissing her again through the fabric of her underwear.

But then he kissed her left thigh, beginning a downward trajectory, pulling her underwear away as he went. And when the thong was completely gone, when she was bared to the world, Hunt’s wings splayed above him, blocking her from the world’s view.

Only his to see, his to devour.

Her breathing turned jagged as his mouth reached her left ankle, kissing again, and then he was sliding back up. He halted with his head between her thighs, though. Took her feet and propped them onto the counter.

Spread her legs wide.

Bryce moaned softly as Hunt surveyed her, the light glowing through his wings making him look like an avenging angel lit with inner fire.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice guttural with need.

She’d never felt so naked, yet so seen and cherished. Not as Hunt slid a finger through her wetness. “Fuck yeah,” he growled, more to himself than to her, and she really, truly couldn’t breathe as he knelt again, head poised where she needed him most.

Hunt softly, reverently, laid a hand on her, opening her for his own personal tasting. His tongue swept along her in an introductory Hi, nice to fuck you flit. She bit her lip, panting through her nose.

Yet Hunt bowed his head, brow resting just above her mound as his hands slid to her thighs once more. He inhaled and exhaled, shuddering, and she had no idea if he was savoring her scent or really needed a moment to calm the Hel down.

One or two more licks and she knew she’d lose her mind entirely.

Then Hunt pressed a kiss to the top of her sex. And another, as if he couldn’t help it. His hands caressed her thighs. He kissed her a third time, raised wings twitching, and then his mouth drifted south, one hand with it.

Again, he parted her, and pressed his tongue flat against her as he dragged it up.

Stars sparked behind Bryce’s eyes, her breasts aching so much she arched into the air, as if seeking invisible hands to touch them.

“That’s it,” Hunt said against her, and flicked his tongue over her clit with lethal precision.

She couldn’t endure this. Couldn’t handle one more second of this torture—

His tongue pushed into her, curling deep, and she bucked.

“You taste like gods-damn paradise,” he growled, pulling back enough for her to note her wetness on his mouth, his chin. “I knew you’d taste like this.”

Bryce clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from shouting as Hunt drove his tongue back into her, then dragged it all the way up to her clit. His teeth clamped down gently, and her eyes rolled back into her head. Burning Solas and merciful Cthona …