Page 135 of Dance With A Devil

It’ll be becauseImade her.

The taste of her lingers in the air, sweet and forbidden. Gentle sucks turned to savage bites as I dragged my mouth across her throat like I owned her. And maybe I did, in this moment, in this mask, under the cover of the hunt.

“I hope you didn’t think I missed these,” I whisper darkly against her skin, teeth grazing the bruise Wyck left just beneath her jaw. “Now you’ll wear mine alongside his.” I sink my teeth into the sensitive skin behind her ear, just hard enough to make her twitch and gasp.

I see what he did, painted her in a necklace of marks like she’s some trophy. But this? This is for me. For my pleasure. For my obsession.

Her soft moans curl into my chest like smoke, wrapping around the thing in me that hasn’t felt alive in years. I press my cock to her ass, hard and throbbing against the thin cotton. “If your hands were free,” I rasp, “I’d make you touch what you do to me.”

“I can still feel it,” she breathes, dragging the word out like it’s foreplay. God, she’s so fucking aware of what she’s doing.

“Say you like it.”

“I love it… Diamond.” The name drips off her tongue like venom. She knows exactly what she’s doing, taunting, disobeying, begging for punishment.

I yank her hair harder, forcing her head back. “I know your game, little girl. And it’s working.”

I bend her forward over a thick branch, make her balance on her toes, ass high in the air like a gift. “Deep breath,” I murmur.

Then the first smack lands.

It echoes like a shot in the dark, followed by her scream, raw, wild, beautiful. I strike again. And again. Open palms, alternating hands, loving the way her ass ripples under my touch.

“Fuck!” she yelps, voice breaking, body trembling.

“You want more?” I snarl, hand gripping her ass.

She pops the word, cocky as hell. “Nope.”

God, she’s lethal.

I tear the hem from my shirt and blindfold her, then pull a small black vibrator from my pocket and coat it with spit, dragging it over her lips like a secret. “Open.”

She obeys, lips wrapping around it like it’s my cock. The image nearly unravels me. One hand fucks the toy into her mouth, slow and steady. The other palms her tits, teasing, pinching, playing until her body sings for more. When my hand finds her clit, she lets out a muffled moan around the toy.

“I’m close,” she murmurs.

Too bad.

I yank everything away.

Her frustration is a melody I could fuck to, sharp, desperate, laced with need. “Please don’t leave me like this,” she begs, breathless.

I return with the voice changer. “Ever heard of orgasm denial?”

She nods.

“Good. That’s your punishment.”

Her jaw clenches, lips parted, angry and aroused.

“That’s not the punishment I had in mind.”

“Oh, I’ll be sure to tell Karter his perfect little brat was pouting just for me.”

That gets her. I press the vibrator to her folds, switched on this time, and her hips jerk. “Oh!” she gasps, rising onto her toes again.

I bend down, suck her nipple into my mouth, then bite, hard. She whimpers. Her skin tastes like sex and salt and secrets. Blood beads at the bite, and I lick it clean before switching sides.