Kings of Chaos (Dirty Broken Savages #1)(65)

It doesn’t have exactly the effect I want, so I up the ante a bit, pulling the crotch of my panties aside to show him more. So he can see how wet I am, the shine of my folds as the scent of my arousal fills the air.

Something about the way he looks at me every now and then just spurs me on. I wanted his attention, and these are little snippets of it.

But it’s not enough. I need something else. I need more.

Priest keeps playing, and I work my fingers over my clit, giving in to that burning need to stimulate myself more.

“Fuck,” I breathe in a low voice, bucking up to press harder against my hand. “Feels good.”

He didn’t ask, and he doesn’t react to my words. He just keeps playing, so I keep going.

I push one finger into the hot tightness of my hole, feeling my silky smooth inner walls cling to my finger when I try to work it back out. Just that finger isn’t enough, so I add another one, pressing them both in deep.

My breath is coming in sharp, harsh gasps, and I can’t hold back the way I’m trembling a little as heat rushes through me. This is about getting a rise out of Priest, but it’s also actually fucking hot to do this on top of his piano.

I can tell I’m going to come soon, so I don’t back down. I fuck myself on my own fingers, letting the obscenely wet noises echo in the room right alongside the music.

My moans and harsh breathing add an odd harmony to the mix, and I arch sharply when I feel that pleasure rising and threatening to spill over.

I shove my fingers in deeper, fucking myself as hard as I like it, and that’s enough. That bubble of pleasure pops, sending it all cascading over me and through me. I have to bite my lip on a loud cry, and my toes curl as I shake my way through an orgasm.

Priest finally reacts to that, at least. His fingers fly over the keys of the piano, the music turning fast and frantic. He’s practically slamming his hands into them, and then all of a sudden he actually does.

Both hands come down hard, the harsh chord making me jump.

Priest stands up all at once, knocking the piano bench backward and staring at me with eyes that burn.





27





RIVER





AFTERSHOCKS OF PLEASURE are still rippling through me, but my orgasm is already forgotten.

I feel like I’m holding my breath, waiting to see what the viciously beautiful blond man in front of me is going to do. The look in his ice-blue eyes doesn’t make it clear whether he wants to kiss me or kill me, and when he grabs me roughly and lifts me off the piano, I’m still not sure.

Without saying anything, he carries me over to the couch that rests against one wall and throws me onto it.

He braces one hand on the back of the couch and leans down to hover over me, his body practically vibrating with some emotion I can’t even name. There’s probably anger in there, because if Priest is showing an emotion it’s usually anger, but there’s so much intensity in it that I have no fucking idea.

He lets out a harsh breath and reaches for me, one hand gripping my throat in a harsh hold.

I gasp instinctually, but he doesn’t cut off my air. Not quite. Close, though. Close enough that it sends a thrill of adrenaline through my body that makes my heart race and my clit throb, even though I just came.

With his nostrils flaring, he stares down at me. His free hand moves down my body, and he shoves it into the front of my panties. I know he can feel how wet I still am, and he closes his eyes and groans low in his throat. He sounds like he’s truly tortured by it, and I shiver at the sound.

Priest drags his fingers through my folds, exploring me roughly. Like he wants to map out every inch of my pussy with his fingertips and doesn’t care to be gentle about it. He doesn’t kiss me or touch me in any other way, just keeps that hold on my throat while he lets his fingers do their work.

I feel pinned in place… but not in a bad way.

His touch is harsh, but he’s not hurting me. Not more than I’ve come to like, anyway. It feels good, the way he holds me here, working his fingers through my mess before shoving two long digits inside me.

I gasp out and arch up against him, my eyes fluttering closed for a second.

There’s no gentleness, no hesitation. He slams his fingers into me again and again, working me up and working me open while I writhe beneath him.

I grind against his hand, and he squeezes my throat a little tighter, making it a little harder to breathe.

My chest tightens from the lack of oxygen, but there’s no flash of panic or worry that he’s going to kill me like this. Instead, there’s just the slow, heady burn of arousal, curling through me and growing like a fire starting to spread.

Priest adds another finger, all three of them stretching me to the point where I can feel the burn of it. He fucks me with them the same way he might with his dick, hard movements that make wet noises echo in the room.

It’s such a contrast to the beautiful music he was making before. His rough touch, the callouses I can feel scraping against my sensitive walls. The guttural, quiet sounds I make as I let him do whatever he wants to me.

I buck beneath him, trying to get more pressure, unable to hold myself back. I feel raw and primal in a way I like. Not thinking, not trying to be sexy or intimidating or anything. Just reacting to the way he touches me, the way he forces me to feel this pleasure.

It’s fucking amazing, going to my head with every thin breath I manage to suck in.