Wretched (Never After Series)(50)

My fingertips tingle as blood rushes back and I fling my arms around his neck, my body too shaky to stand on my own.

“Give me your words, pretty girl.” The gun presses against my ribs and his left hand ghosts across my pussy, his fingers stroking my clit through the soaked fabric of my underwear. “I want your little love spells.”

The voices are so close now, it would be a miracle if they don’t see us, and my stomach somersaults when I visualize what we’ll look like when they do. He wants poetry, but I can’t give him mine. It’s too personal, and I’m already giving too much.

“My life had stood, a loaded gun,” I force out between heavy breaths.

The tips of his fingers slip beneath my panties now, sliding through my lips, collecting the wetness seeping from my hole.

His tongue snakes out and licks up the column of my neck, sending a shiver racking through my body.

“Keep going,” he demands.

“In corners till a day.”

As if in slow motion, his hand stops rubbing against me, moving the gun down my side until it too disappears beneath my skirt. He presses the barrel against my clit.

My head flies back, cracking against the wall, my nails digging into his neck.

“The owner passed,” I cry out. “Identified, and carried me away.”

The cool metal pushes into my pussy, and my hips have a mind of their own, sliding along the rail, the evenly spaced deep slots on the top creating a sensation that has heat winding through my core and shooting down my legs.

“Oh, god,” I moan when he moves the gun back and forth.

He leans in, his lips so close that his breath is my air. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“And… and now we roam in sovreign woods, and now we hunt… hunt the doe,” I stutter. “And every time I speak for him, the mountains straight reply.”

I’m full on grinding against the weapon now, so lost in the fog of what’s happening, I forget about anything else. “And do I sm-smile, such cordial light, opon the valley glow. It is as a vesuvian face, had let its pleasure through.”

“They’re watching us, Eveline.” He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Standing right outside the alley, seeing every depraved thing I do to you.”

The way he says my full name makes my face flush and my back bow, my hips working harder against the top of the rail.

“Do you think they like it?” His other hand grips at the fabric and pulls just enough to make my underwear slide halfway down my thighs. “You think their cocks are thick and hard, their minds spinning with jealousy that they can look but never touch?”

A noise escapes me while he paints the lewd picture, and I squeeze my eyes closed.

“I’d kill them if they touched you. This is mine,” he growls. “There’s a woman too. Do you think she’ll go home tonight and lie down in her bed, fucking herself to the thought of what I’m doing to you?”

I moan as I move on top of my gun, chasing the orgasm I need.

“Spread your legs for me.”

I do, without thought. I’m too busy imagining the look on strangers’ faces as they watch; the men clenching their fists to keep from taking out their cocks and stroking to the sight. The woman, gripping onto one of their arms, her pussy swollen and drenched, throbbing as she watches me get tortured with pleasure.

“Keep going, pretty girl. You’re doing so well.”

My abdomen clenches, muscles tightening until they feel as if they’ll burst through my skin. “And… and when at night, our good day done, I guard my master’s head.”

His free hand reaches around, gripping a handful of my ass, forcing me harder into both the gun and his body.

I open my mouth, and Brayden dips down, catching the moan with his tongue. He slides the Eagle against my core, then drags it back so the front sight—the small protruding piece on the tip—presses into my clit. I soar even higher, the pressure between my legs growing.

He breaks the kiss and speaks the next line against my lips, his voice deep and strained. “Tis better than the eider duck’s deep pillow to have shared.”

My pussy contracts. He knows Emily Dickinson.

“To foe of his, I’m deadly… fuck… I’m deadly foe,” I force out, squeezing my eyes shut tighter as I try and formulate words. “None stir the second time. On whom I lay a yellow eye, or an… an emphatic thumb.”

Brayden’s teeth sink into my throat, hard enough to break the skin as he continues to get me off with my gun, and I gasp, my legs shaking.

“Please,” I beg, my nails destroying the back of his neck. “Please.”

His grip is bruising on my ass cheek as he controls my movements, pushing me forward and dragging me back, and then he changes the angle of his hand until the tip of the gun circles against my entrance.

Sparks ricochet off every single part of me, my body buzzing like I’m high on drugs.

“Finish the poem,” he whispers, pulling back to gaze into my eyes.

My heart stutters as I stare at him, something breaking in my chest, allowing warmth to flood through every crack. “Though I than he, may longer live, he longer must than I,” I pant.

Is the safety switch on? Arousal rushes through me like a storm surge, my back flying off the wall as I hold on to him like I’m drowning.