Possessive Marks

Declan

Her hips lifted off the bed, seeking more friction. "I don't want slow. I want you."

"You'll get me." I moved my hand away, ignoring her whimper of protest. "After I've had my fill of looking at you."

I moved back up her body, my hands roaming over her stomach, her ribs, her breasts. Mapping every curve and dip.

Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath my palms