Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions novel Chapter 139

Chapter 139

As I look up at Thane and slip my thumb into my mouth to gently lap up his taste, the raw desire in his eyes almost makes me lose control. I can feel my pulse thundering in my ears as my body reacts to the intensity of this moment. Every inch of him is a temptation I’m struggling not to give in to, and yet, here I am, my hands trembling with need as I start to slide them up his thighs again.

Heat pools between my legs, my mouth watering at the sight of him so engorged, so hard, and all for me. The way he looks at me as he follows my movements, the raw hunger in his gaze–it’s like he’s stripping me bare, leaving me exposed and wanting. I can’t remember the last time I felt this…needy, this starved.

Right before I slip my hands beneath his clothes to pull them off, Thane exhales sharply, and his hand runs through my hair, but it’s not his usual commanding touch. There’s a tenderness in it now, a gentleness that surprises me in this desire–filled moment. “You don’t have to do this,” he says, his voice strained, the heat between us still palpable. “We can stop.”

But I don’t want to stop. Not now. Not with everything between us so charged, so electric.

I lean into him again, my lips lightly brushing against the skin just above his waistband on his left hip, then the right one, and the tension between us rises another notch. He’s trying to maintain his control, he’s trying to keep himself composed, but I can see the strain around his eyes. And that’s when I know: I’m the one pushing him. I’m the one making him lose himself in this moment. With me.

“I don’t want to stop,” I say, my voice hushed but full of intent, as I peer up at him from beneath my lashes.

Thane’s breath hitches again, and for a moment, there’s a long pause between us as we search each other’s eyes. It’s as if time stands still for just a second, while the air around us is thick with anticipation. His hands move and cradle my face from both sides, his grip firm but careful as he stares at me worshipfully. He wants this. He wants me. But there’s something more in his eyes, something deeper.

I can see it now–the vulnerability, the raw need that’s bottled up beneath all the control he constantly tries to maintain. And it makes my chest tighten. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if he’s just as afraid as I am. Afraid of what happens after this.

But in this moment, none of that matters.

I push aside my fears, my doubts, and my own need for control. And I make my decision. I’m in this, fully and completely.

Wordlessly, I hook my fingers around the waistband on the sides of his hips and pull his pants and briefs and tug them down in one fluid motion. Thane lifts his hips to help, the quiet cooperation adding to the heat simmering between us. As I slide the fabric past the powerful lines of his thighs, he kicks off his black designer shoes without a word, leaving behind nothing but bronzed skin, and muscles that are pulled tight by restrained sexual tension.

I discard his clothing haphazardly behind me as I stare at the gloriousness that is Thane Draeven’s rock–hard cock. Because, of course, he’s hung like a horse.

Breaking eye contact with his one–eyed anaconda, my gaze flicks up his sculpted body to his eyes, which are filled with the kind of smolder that could burn right through anyone’s restraint. His stare is loaded, every ounce of lust he’s barely holding back written across his face. The air thickens impossibly further, humming with want.

I lean in slowly, deliberately, running my hands up his thighs with featherlight pressure. His toned muscles flex beneath my touch, and the raw magnetism between us sparks like static. I’m acutely aware of the way his breath stutters from his lungs. Of how the heat that’s rolling off his skin in waves feel: like gravity pulling me closer. My insides are turning to mush, and my kitty–cat is uncharacteristically gushing with arousal.

Sucking my tongue out, I lick one long line all the way from the base to the tip of his angry–looking beast. When I reach the top, I suck its head into my mouth, and gently suck on it for a second. The aphrodisiac–like taste of his precum has my eyes rolling back in my head and a groan shipping from the back of my throat that I’ve never made before.

I let my lips brush against his slit, light as a whisper, and the way he groans–low, guttural, and almost reverent–makes my thoughts go liquid. My head spins with how thoroughly I want to wreck him, with how completely I want to lose myself in this moment.

I ship may right hand around the base of his cock, and my fingertips manage to touch, but only fust. He definitely wasn’t tooting his own horn (or should I say tube?) when he threatened that I wouldn’t be able to walk straight for days.

Lordy, thus is a serious upgrade. Thane’s cock is practically the definition of size matters. There’s no contest between his and Steven’s. Steven cmulder’t even compete if he tried I mean, the guy was more like a sad little garden hose, limp and pathetic, while Thane… Thane’s like the full- throttle fire hose that could knock you off your feet and drench you from head to toe if you weren’t careful

I almost laugh at the thought of it. Steven barely even deserved the title of man. Meanwhile, Thane? Yeah, he’s definitely the kind of guy who

2:33 PM

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