Page 33 of Cruel Betrayal

After he tosses the keys onto a console table in the hallway, he kicks off his shoes and waits for me to do the same to mine.

We head down the long hallway and into the open concept living room and kitchen.

There are wide windows that overlook the city at night, the lights shining down below.

I take a deep breath and follow him deeper into the apartment, taking in the dark leather couches and black walls.

The kitchen cabinets are black, the butcher block countertops a honey-tone beneath the warm lights.

Perching on the edge of the couch, I glance over at Ezra. “Why do you think I deserve freedom? You don’t trust me yet, and I sure as hell don’t trust you. I don’t know if I’m ever going to trust you.”

Ezra unbuttons his shirt, leaving it hanging open over his muscled torso.

I clench my thighs together, the vibrator shifting around inside me.

He smirks as his gaze drops to my lap. “Do I have to trust you to think you’re going to do what I want?”

“I don’t know. Depends what you want, I guess.”

I lean back on the couch, but it’s only a moment before he grabs my thighs and flips me onto my back.

As much as I want to, I can’t stop my hands from pressing against his torso as he hovers over me.

My fingers press into his stomach, tracing up his chest and to his neck.

There’s not enough strength in my body to strangle him before he gets me off him, but it would be fun to try.

He arches an eyebrow. “What do you think you’re going to do?”

“I could kill you right now. You brought me to your apartment. You made yourself vulnerable.” I slip my leg out of the slit in my dress, hooking it over his hip.

Just keep playing the game for as long as possible. Manipulate him and maybe get an orgasm at the same time.

It’s not going to be a moment I’m proud of, but the image of his cock in his hand is still burned into my brain. I’d be lying if I said that I don’t think he’d be able to stretch me out in the best ways possible.

Ezra grabs my wrists in one of his hands, forcing my hands high above my head. With the other, he reaches down between my legs, grabbing the toy and pulling it out.

And then his head is between my legs, his grip on my wrists gone.

His lips trace up and down my inner thighs, barely whispers of touches.

When he blows out a cool breath on my clit, I let out a moan, hips rising off the couch to meet him.

He chuckles before his tongue flattens against me. It moves at a torturously slow pace over my clit, flicking and circling.

I always knew he’d be better than the sexts.

He used to tell me all the things he was going to do to me. I spent too much time between writing one paper and the next getting off to what he said. To the videos he would send me in return.

Teeth graze the sensitive bud before he pushes a finger into me, pressing against my inner walls, teasing me before sliding another in.

I rock against his fingers. “Yes. Please.”

“Already begging?” He bites my inner thigh hard enough that I’m sure there’s going to be a mark in the morning.

And that only turns me on more.

My fingers sink into the short strands of his hair, though there’s not much to hold onto. Still, I grip the back of his head, grinding into him as his fingers work faster, thrusting deeper.