Sasusaku Lemon

Lemon 8

Hope you guys like and remember none of these lemons belong to me.

The following story will have explicit sexual content. Reader's discretion is advised

--------------------

"Sakura," his voice slid over her bare skin deliciously

Even if he was corrupted, mind twisted beyond repair, she could still hear the desire in his voice. The fact that he wasn't supposed to be here, that he was wanted as a missing nin was even more exciting at that moment with his hands on her hips, lips brushing against her earlobe, warm breath tickling her cheek.

"Sakura," he growled again, tugging at her waist, trying to pull her even closer, not that she could get any closer then, not unless he decided to remove her clothes… and his own. So, when his hands slipped under her shirt, slowly lifting it as his fingers inched up her skin, Sakura gasped audibly, hands gripping his shoulders.

"Sas-" she started, "why?"

"Why what, Sakura?" he replied smoothly, voice ghosting over her flesh.

"Why are you here? Why now? You hate Konoha now, right?" She'd finally gotten a hold of herself, the questions in her mind sobering her up. "Why me?"

He laughed silently, one corner of his delicious mouth curving upwards. "Because," he responded, "I need you now."

Sakura knew he didn't mean he needed her like she wanted him to, but it was more than she'd ever gotten from him; years of loving him, of constantly searching for him and she hadn't even gotten a kind word from him. Now he wanted her, needed her. And she'd be damned if she didn't want him as well. She'd always wanted him, but something about that want being requited made her stomach twist into tight little knots, knots she wanted him to work out.

She still had questions, still wanted to know so much more; her mouth opened once again, ready to send another his way, but instead the words that slipped from her mouth were not the ones she'd intended.

"Fuck it."

He saw the desire in her eyes, the urgency, the lust, and his mouth was on hers before she had closed her mouth from speaking. A muffled high-pitched groan issued from Sakura's throat as he physically assaulted her mouth, something she'd dreamed of for years and years. Lacing her arms around his shoulders and clasping her hands behind his neck, she pulled herself closer, head tilting to the side to give him better access to her already-open mouth. She felt the heat of his tongue sliding against her own, the tap of his teeth against hers. She didn't mind the bruising pressure of his lips on hers; somehow she found the minute pain delectable; she wanted more of it.

She purposely tried to invoke his anger by digging her nails into the nape of his neck; she got what she wanted. He growled into her moist mouth, his own hands molding themselves down her thighs, until they gripped her so tightly she knew there would be bruises afterwards.

She whimpered slightly when he pulled his mouth from hers; however she was appeased greatly when his lips instead latched onto the tender flesh of her throat and collar bone. She could feel the wetness between her legs, and that certain itch she got on those nights she dreamed about him, about what she longed to do with him. Trying to get closer to him, to rub herself against him and relieve some of that itch, she hoisted herself up by her arms and wrapped her legs around his hips. She hissed as her sensitive center bumped his pelvic bone.