Read Online RIPPED: A Dark Romance (Killer Lips Book 1) by Molly Molloy - Free Book Online
Authors: Molly Molloy
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Josh grounds his gaze into me, willing me to go with him.
“Riley's coming with me,” Mark states.
There follows a war of eyes that must be about the power battle between them more than the desire for my company. Except they both insist they want me with them and it makes me feel more desirable than I could possibly imagine.
“Okay, Mom,” Josh teases when I say I'm tired and going home with his father. Does he forget how he tried to fuck this momma just a while ago?
“He's like that every weekend,” Mark tells me as we walk the empty paved fondamenta back to the Palace. “Needs to go out and set loose a bunch of tension.”
“We were all that way at twenty.”
“You’re still in your twenties. Would you prefer to go clubbing?” he asks, searching my face for the truth as we reach the top of the step bridge beneath the old streetlamp.
“No.” I reply and I mean it. “I'd rather be- with you.”
In that instant I'm surrounded by his powerful arms scooping me into his broad shield of chest. I tip my face up and receive his lips as they connect to mine with an electric force. My mouth opens to take more of him, his tongue ravages deep into me, entwining and twirling expertly around mine.
I'm completely lost inside his kiss. Beneath distant sounds of lapping water and the clink of the gondolas moored against each other under the bridge.
I tip my head further back so my breasts mash against his chest. The pressure between us sending tingles all the way back down through me. The streets are so empty he could take me right here, with the black water sparking when a ripple meets a streetlight.
He pulls away and our eyes lock, searching. Is there hope buried in there? But he can't hold back and his mouth comes down over mine again for a deeper exploration of our connection.
We stand on top of the bridge in the soft pool of golden light, reaching into the other. Making our desire crystal clear as the length of our bodies press tight together. I feel his bulge growing against my lower stomach and the gathering damp between my thighs. It's been too long since I felt this extreme of intense need. Or not long enough.
Eventually, our mouths let go. He presses his lips to mine one last time. One more. And another. Then he takes my hand and leads me down the steps but instead of continuing along the cobbled street, he turns to the quay and whistles.
“I'm not waiting one more fucking night,” he growls as the sleek black boat slithers through the water toward us like an adder.
“Isn't this a funeral gondola?” I hold back from clambering down the slippery wet stone into the gondolier.
Mark has his hand extended from inside the boat, offering to steady me but I remain dumbly standing on the quayside. It's not a normal gondola. The tar black box cabin mounted in the center reminds me of a coffin.
“No, it's called a felze . All the high society people used to use them for their illicit assignations,” he replies, extending his large hand with an undeniable command.
“Get in,” he orders. “I told you, I don't intend to wait any longer.”
I make the semi-leap down into the boat and grab his powerful grasp just in time. The boat sways on the high water as Mark pulls me close into him. I'm crushed into his chest and the memory of that other night with the man who pulled me back from tumbling into the icy water looms vivid.
I shiver with the image of falling into the icy dark water as Mark pushes me toward the box. Every nerve is screeching against being locked inside the black carved casket and Mark has to tug me down through the low door.
I distinguish myself with an ungainly tumble through the low doors of the sinister cabin. The warmth hits me first. The small heater in the corner makes a significant dent in the Siberian chill.
“You can look now,” Mark says and I realize my eyes are screwed up tight like I'm watching a horror movie when the killer appears out of the shadows. The thought of four
“Riley's coming with me,” Mark states.
There follows a war of eyes that must be about the power battle between them more than the desire for my company. Except they both insist they want me with them and it makes me feel more desirable than I could possibly imagine.
“Okay, Mom,” Josh teases when I say I'm tired and going home with his father. Does he forget how he tried to fuck this momma just a while ago?
“He's like that every weekend,” Mark tells me as we walk the empty paved fondamenta back to the Palace. “Needs to go out and set loose a bunch of tension.”
“We were all that way at twenty.”
“You’re still in your twenties. Would you prefer to go clubbing?” he asks, searching my face for the truth as we reach the top of the step bridge beneath the old streetlamp.
“No.” I reply and I mean it. “I'd rather be- with you.”
In that instant I'm surrounded by his powerful arms scooping me into his broad shield of chest. I tip my face up and receive his lips as they connect to mine with an electric force. My mouth opens to take more of him, his tongue ravages deep into me, entwining and twirling expertly around mine.
I'm completely lost inside his kiss. Beneath distant sounds of lapping water and the clink of the gondolas moored against each other under the bridge.
I tip my head further back so my breasts mash against his chest. The pressure between us sending tingles all the way back down through me. The streets are so empty he could take me right here, with the black water sparking when a ripple meets a streetlight.
He pulls away and our eyes lock, searching. Is there hope buried in there? But he can't hold back and his mouth comes down over mine again for a deeper exploration of our connection.
We stand on top of the bridge in the soft pool of golden light, reaching into the other. Making our desire crystal clear as the length of our bodies press tight together. I feel his bulge growing against my lower stomach and the gathering damp between my thighs. It's been too long since I felt this extreme of intense need. Or not long enough.
Eventually, our mouths let go. He presses his lips to mine one last time. One more. And another. Then he takes my hand and leads me down the steps but instead of continuing along the cobbled street, he turns to the quay and whistles.
“I'm not waiting one more fucking night,” he growls as the sleek black boat slithers through the water toward us like an adder.
“Isn't this a funeral gondola?” I hold back from clambering down the slippery wet stone into the gondolier.
Mark has his hand extended from inside the boat, offering to steady me but I remain dumbly standing on the quayside. It's not a normal gondola. The tar black box cabin mounted in the center reminds me of a coffin.
“No, it's called a felze . All the high society people used to use them for their illicit assignations,” he replies, extending his large hand with an undeniable command.
“Get in,” he orders. “I told you, I don't intend to wait any longer.”
I make the semi-leap down into the boat and grab his powerful grasp just in time. The boat sways on the high water as Mark pulls me close into him. I'm crushed into his chest and the memory of that other night with the man who pulled me back from tumbling into the icy water looms vivid.
I shiver with the image of falling into the icy dark water as Mark pushes me toward the box. Every nerve is screeching against being locked inside the black carved casket and Mark has to tug me down through the low door.
I distinguish myself with an ungainly tumble through the low doors of the sinister cabin. The warmth hits me first. The small heater in the corner makes a significant dent in the Siberian chill.
“You can look now,” Mark says and I realize my eyes are screwed up tight like I'm watching a horror movie when the killer appears out of the shadows. The thought of four
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