Page 164 of Dance of Devils

“Second, Viktor is the same way withhis wife,” I growl. “And third, you have a lot to do with hisspecial surprisebecausehis gift from me is season tickets to the Zakharova for him and Fiona. They’re both huge ballet fans.”

Her mouth makes a small “O” shape, her eyes widening as she looks at me in the darkness of the library.

“And last,” I murmur, pinning her to the books at her back, “I told you to go take your panties offfor me.” My eyes blaze. “I’ve been dreaming about your perfect cunt since I feasted on it this morning.”

She winces, deflating in front of my eyes. “Fuck, what is wrong with me? Why did I immediately jump to something so…so…vile?”

“Because the men that the world has thrown at you throughout your life werevile men,” I hiss. She shivers, gasping as my hand slowly wraps around her throat.

Her lower lip sucks between her teeth. “Y-you’re not a vile man,” she whispers.

“No, I'm not.” I shake my head. “I’m justyourman.”

When my lips meet hers, fire ignites in both of us. I growl into her mouth, claiming it with my tongue as I pin her to the bookcase. Brooklyn clutches my tuxedo shirt, clinging to me as she moans into my mouth and kisses me fiercely.

“You’re fuckingmine, babygirl,” I growl into her mouth. “Never anyone else’s.” I pull back just enough to lock my eyes with hers, cupping her jaw as I slowly drag my thumb across her full lips. “But perhaps I haven’t been clear enough on that.”

She whimpers as I lean close, pushing my thumb between her lips.

“Allow me torectify that.”

Brooklyn gasps quietly as my mouth dips to her ear, my teeth nipping at the shell as I breathe into her neck.

“Take your fucking panties off and hand them to me.”

Her breath hitches.

“Now, little sinner.”

Her eyes burn with blue fire as they lock with mine. Her face heats, her tongue slipping out to run across her bottom lip, still swollen from my kiss. She keeps her gaze on me as she slowly pulls up her dress, then slips her hands beneath it. She swallows, bending at the knees and peeling her panties down her legs, lifting one heeled foot and then the other to slip them off.

She’s shaking when she places the little black lace thong in my palm.

“Now turn around, open your mouth, and grab the top shelf with both hands.”

A tremor ripples through Brooklyn's exposed shoulders but she nods, turning to face the bookcase and reaching up to the top shelf.

“Good girl. Now—open your mouth.”

I bring her panties to my nose, inhaling her sweet scent. I can feel the dewy wetness clinging to the lace, and my cock swells and twitches as I reach my hand around her and stuff the thong into her mouth.

Brooklyn moans quietly, then trembles again when I grab a fistful of her gown at the back and yank it all the way up her thighs and over her tight dancer’s ass.

“Count them aloud,” I murmur sternly. “I’m going to remind this ass exactlywhose it is.”

I draw back, and when I crack my palm across her ass, it’s like I’m punishing the world for all the shit it’s handed her.

CRACK.

Brooklyn shrieks, rising up on her toes as red blooms over her soft skin.

“One,” she mumbles through the panties in her month.

I wind up a second time, slamming my palm against the other cheek and making her writhe and flinch and rise up on her toes again.

“Two!”

I keep spanking her, wanting to brutalize the fucking world and remind her exactly howmineshe is, all at once. By the time I hit eight, she’s squirming and squeezing her thighs together. By ten, she’s a moaning, shuddering mess as she sags against the bookshelves, drooling into her fucking panties.