Georgie has destroyed me. She's threatened my freedom and everything I've worked so hard to build. My band, my music, is the last thing on my mind. I want her to pay for all she's done.
But she's still my Georgie, and my desire for her is as hot as ever. She's my inferno, my biggest mistake and my greatest reward.
My fans see her as their idol's downfall. When her life is threatened, I realize there's nothing in the world more important to me than her.
She's my flame.
I'm her anchor.
Together, we're explosive.
We are incendiary.
For mature audiences only. Incendiary is not a standalone novel, but is the conclusion to Georgiana McCall's and Sloane Mason's story that began in Inferno.
The hot water relaxes my muscles and diminishes the last of the lingering fury that I shoved aside during my time in the nursery. Expecting Georgie to have Bryn with her or to still be in the nursery, I’m surprised to find her alone in bed. Her head rests on her drawn up knees and her black hair fans around her, hiding her face from view and blanketing her back. She’s deep in thought, only alerted to my presence when I toss my towel over the nearby chair. The moment she sits up, my gaze drops to her bare breasts, vaguely aware of the still healing wounds on her shoulder and arm.
Her nudity distracts me from anything else. My cock stiffens and my nuts throb.
Rising from the bed, she glides to me, stopping inches from my body and searching my face. Neither of us speak. I should. This is a big step for her and a turning point for us. She flattens her palm against my chest and skims her fingers down to my dick. Her touch makes me clumsy with anticipation, completely destroying my smooth moves and speaking capabilities.
Arm around her waist, I lift her up and dislodge her hand. Fastening my mouth to hers, I guide us down onto the bed, encouraged by her soft moans. I massage her nipple between two fingers, enjoying the taste, texture, and feel of her.
My tongue glides down her neck, pausing to taste the nipple I’ve neglected, before continuing down to her cunt and burying my face against her. I lick from the top of her pussy to her delicate opening, grunting when she widens her legs and threads her fingers through my hair. Nose against her clit, I tongue the inside of her lips, worshipping her with the pleasure she deserves and craves.
Whimpering, she shudders against my mouth, her taste the most addictive drug I’ve ever indulged in, her soft cries and the wet heat filling my mouth removing all sense of time as I feast on her pussy. The intensity of her orgasms increase with each one she has. Her pussy is flushed and engorged, her juices glistening on her cunt lips and sliding down to her ass.
Rising above her, I guide my dick into her, her thighs cradling me. She arches into my thrusts, the feel of her hot depths electrifying my nerve endings. “You’re so fucking wet.”
She groans. “I love the feel of your dick in me, Sloane.”
She’s trying to fucking kill me.
Licking my chin, she tastes her pussy juice, then sucks at my tongue, her muscles squeezing my cock.
Her nails sink into my back, the pain turning into pleasure the moment I feel the sting. Grabbing her hands, I trap them above her head.
“I’m yours,” she whispers between gasps. “Body, heart, and soul.”
There’s so much I have to say to her. What she means to me and what she’s given to me.
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