Blasphemous (Torn #3)(71)
“Don’t tempt me, Bass.” My body was shaking from rage. From wanting to claw those spellbinding eyes. From wanting him to just leave me alone. Most of all, from the thrill it was giving me and the effect it had on my body.
“Hit me.” When he saw that I didn’t make a move. Something flashed in his eyes and he smiled like the devil himself. “Is the thought of me with another woman making you crazy? Or is it the thought of me falling in love again that makes you go nuts? Is it because you want to be the only woman, Emma?”
I shot towards him and hit him, mad. “I don’t care! Go f*uk yourself. I’ve had something better than you! You are nothing to me,” I said with little composure as I growled against his stupid form.
He made an animalistic sound before slamming my back against the mirrored wall. “Oh, did you now?” Bass was menacing as he caged me in between his hands. “Is that what you did tonight, Emma, getting to know a French cock better?”
When I didn’t answer him after two seconds, he lost it. “f*uking answer me!” he bellowed, making my ears ring.
“No, I didn’t,” I responded calmly, even though I was panicking inside.
“Why do you make me suffer by throwing men in my face? You know how it will make me feel and yet you still goad me to the point of no return. You tell me you don’t care about me, yet I’ve barely touched you and your body quakes against mine. Why’s that, Emma? Is it because you’re remembering me now? You remember how I can make this body go under my spell?”
It was a sick, twisted thing, but this was what we did to each other.
Stay the hell out of my space. I started to panic when Bass was so close and with a mood that was too familiar to me.
It was predatory, determined, and ruthless. If he tried something, I had a slim chance of surviving. “No, I don’t remember any of it. I’m quaking because you’re drunk and making me nervous.”
My entire existence overheated when his thumb grazed the bottom of my lip. I badly wanted to move and run, but Bass’s spell had been cast upon me, his subject, and there was nowhere to go. Like a spider unto his prey, once captured and bitten, you stay there—paralyzed into a state of shock—but knew what was happening around you.
“Your lips are quivering, anticipating my kiss. Is that what you want? For me to kiss you until we are both senselessly craving each other? These lips told me how much you loved me, tasted me, f*uked me—milked every drop of my come until I was spent.” Both of our breathing hitched as he continued to torture and murder all of my senses. “But you know what I really loved about it, Emma? You simply tasted like my forever.” I think he waited for me to answer his question, but I was utterly incoherent.
When he lowered his head and brushed his lips against mine, testing my resistance, I was putty in his hands. He kissed me hungrily at first then slowly, as if making love to my mouth. “Emma,” he whispered, loaded with emotions.
The way he said my name simply broke something inside my heart.
No. Don’t go there, I thought as I detached my lips from his. “Bass, we have to stop this.” However, his lips went to the side of my neck, licking and nipping his way into my heart.
f*uk, I thought with alarm when he ground his hips against mine while his leg parted my thighs to situate himself in between my heat. “Then, stop me,” he rasped out before he bit into my neck. Making my pu**y release another well of liquid, trickling out of my soaked slit. “Stop me.” His hands were everywhere, cupping my breasts over my dress, and then slowly caressing their way south. I held my breath as his hand touched the softness of my inner thigh, jolting a shot of electricity across my frame.
“Bass,” I hissed when his finger hovered underneath the elasticity of my thong, caressing it back and forth, quite close to the lips, driving me with need. For him.
His touch completely lit me on fire. After eight months, Bass was the only one who could make me feel like this. Only. f*uking. Him.
I let out a groan when his finger finally touched my labia, making me crazy—inhibited and carnal. “You’re so wet. So f*uking wet, always so f*uking wet for me,” he observed with evident pleasure from finding me slick with thick essence.
Bass was breathing so hard against my ear as his finger slowly circled the entrance—gradually teasing, biding time to deepen his spell on me. I was on the verge of collapse when his lips kissed my cheek, while his finger leisurely drove me insane as they trailed off quite close to my lips. “Stop. Me.” He panted out. His hot breath gave me sweet agony, pushing me to the tip of surrender.
Our eyes clashed—one consuming and the other devouring. All the while his finger teased my wet opening. “Stop me, Emma.” He warned me for the last time, eyes tenacious with one goal in mind.
I couldn’t. I hated myself for giving in to his ministrations, but hell, he just felt too good.
His hungered gaze never left mine as he plunged his finger inside my hot core. It was swift and I bucked, gasping at the rough way he executed it. We both released a deep growl; sharing the same hunger we’ve denied ourselves for so long. I haven’t had anything in there for months that it felt like my orgasm was a finger away from flooding out of me.
I bit my lip as his middle finger rubbed, stroked and f*uked me while his thumb grounded against my nub, ruthless and relentless with one mission in mind.