Twisted (Never After #4)(55)

Mentally, I go over every single reason why I should let go and walk away.

She’s too young.

I’m planning to kill her.

She’s not really mine.

I don’t even want her to be.

But there’s something stronger taking over, and that’s what I listen to instead. Maybe later, I’ll blame it on the liquor, but for now, I’m reveling in the moment.

Her perfect mouth parts and my thumb traces along its edges, my gaze dropping to the swell of her breasts as her breathing grows heavy.

“You’re playing a dangerous game letting me touch you like this.”

Her eyes flash and she leans in, resting the weight of her face against my hand. “Maybe I like a bit of danger.”

Those words are my undoing and I unravel, leaning forward and brushing my lips against hers. She moans against my mouth, and our tongues meet, tangling and sucking and biting. It’s messy and feverish, and I feel like I can’t get close enough.

My hands reach out and wrap around her waist, dragging her into me until she’s straddling my lap, the heat of her cunt settling on top of my cock and making it throb with the need to be inside her. My hand is still cupping her cheek and I press harder, cradling her face as I kiss the fuck out of her, lost in whatever this thing is that she’s making me feel.

Her palms slide up my shoulders and around my neck until she’s threading her fingers through the hair on the nape of my neck, and goose bumps sprout down the length of my arms. It’s exhilarating, having someone touch me and not hate the way it feels.

I’ve never experienced it before. Never let it happen.

Suddenly, I’m desperate to feel her come. It’s not a want, it’s a need to know what it feels like to have her face flush with pleasure because of me, and not just because I’m watching.

My free hand glides down her torso, bunching up her shirt and slipping beneath the hem before moving back up, caressing her soft skin while I grip her hip and start to move her back and forth over me. She moans again, and I suck it down like water, savoring the unrestrained noises she makes as she grinds her pussy along the length of my dick.

I break my lips away, my hold moving from her cheek until it skates back into the curls of her hair, pulling until she bows backward, her neck exposed.

She inhales sharply, and my fingers flex in her hair, tilting her head to the side and leaning in to drag my lips across her throat. “Fuck, you’re driving me wild.” She’s moving on her own now, rotating her hips in a slow and steady rhythm, and I push my hips into hers, letting her feel every inch of my cock as it strains against my zipper. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

Her mouth parts, and she leans more of her body weight into my hand.

“Answer me,” I demand, my grip on her hip tightening.

“Yes,” she breathes.

“You make me so fucking hard.”

My tongue slips out at the juncture between her neck and her collarbone, and I groan at the taste of her.

“You like that, don’t you? Knowing you drive me to the point of madness,” I continue, moving the hand that’s on her hip until it skims the top of her sweats, dipping my fingers beneath the fabric. “I can’t work. I can’t eat. I can’t think of anything except spreading you wide open and slipping between your perfect thighs so I can fill you up.”

Precum leaks from my cock at the image I’m painting, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep it together. To not tear her clothes off and throw her on the floor, sinking inside her until she screams.

“You should tell me to stop,” I rasp, my fingers dipping farther beneath the fabric of her pants.

“Stop,” she whispers back. But her hands grip my hair tighter, twisting the strands until it stings.

I move my face up and my hand from out of her hair until I’m once again cupping her jaw. “If I don’t stop, will you still hate me in the morning?”

Her movements halt completely, and she pulls back until we’re locked in a heavy gaze. My cock pulses against her, so fucking close to coming just from her rubbing her sweet little cunt on my lap, and my hands—one on her face and one halfway down her pants— twitch with the urge to make her finish the job.

Her gaze shutters and she licks her bottom lip. “Probably.”

I nod, resting my forehead against hers for one second.

Two.

Three.

And then I grit my teeth and pull away, dropping her and rushing out of the room.

I go straight to Isabella’s enclosure, checking to make sure she’s okay. Yasmin’s presence has kept me from attending to her as much, and I want to make sure she isn’t lonely. I don’t see her in the enclosure, so she must be asleep or hiding, so I head to my room instead and then farther back into the en suite, throwing the shower on cold and jumping beneath the harsh spray, hoping the water will temper the fire that’s blazing through my body, begging me to go back and claim what’s mine.

It’s my ring she’s wearing.

It’s my last name she has.

I close my fist and smash it into the tile, the pain grounding me enough to remind myself of what I really want.

And it’s not her.

No matter how much it feels like it is.





Chapter 23





Yasmin