Page 34 of Enchantra (Wicked Games #2)

33

FOX SAYS

“That’s another point for me,” Genevieve bragged as her tiny gray pebble bounced into place next to a large, flat stone.

Rowin grunted at his fourth consecutive loss. He claimed it was because he’d never played bocce before—not that this was a very faithful version of the game, given their limited resources—but, really, he just didn’t understand what throwing softly meant.

They’d spent the first couple of hours going over everything there was to know about Crimson Rot. He’d told her all the rumors there were of its origin. He’d explained how the Rot slowly infused itself with a Demon’s blood so that their very life force was what killed them—rotting them from the inside out. The temporary fix that Knox administered to his mother after the Hunt cleaned the Rot out of her system, but over the course of a year it would consume her once again.

His willingness, and patience, in answering all her questions had slowly settled whatever lingering skepticism she had about his omittance of the hex. It helped that he had tried to get her to leave Enchantra when she first arrived and that he had convinced Ellin to save her life several times. It was also hard to remain upset with him when she knew what it was like to feel the need to keep so many secrets. How many had she kept from Ophelia over the years? How many was she still keeping?

After the heaviness of their conversation, Genevieve thought that playing a game might help to lift the mood.

“Fuck.” Rowin’s curse cut through her thoughts as he threw his next pebble.

She tried to hold in her giggle this time. “You’re truly terrible at this game.”

“You’re being a very sore winner,” he admonished as he dropped the rest of his pebbles to the ground. “Let’s play something else.”

“You are so competitive,” she teased. “But fine. What game do you want to play? Or would you rather do something…else?”

A wicked gleam entered his golden gaze at that question. “Whatever are you implying, Mrs. Silver?”

Genevieve glanced around them. “Well, it seems to me that perhaps this would be the perfect place for our audience to get to see how well we…work together.”

The heat in his gaze boiled over now, and she had a feeling whatever sort of challenge she’d just invoked for this next performance was not going to be as tame as the last.

“Are you sure?” he implored as he brushed a strand of her hair out of her face. “You want to show them everything?”

“Yes,” she agreed. The word firm. Confident.

Truth be told, Genevieve hadn’t ever thought about whether she’d mind such a thing. Of course she knew they had already put on quite the show for Knox’s spectators, but they’d been fully clothed the entire time. Regardless, Genevieve had always enjoyed sex and expressing her sexuality. Because why shouldn’t she? The masqueraders certainly hadn’t had any qualms about their sexual endeavors being on display for all to see, so Genevieve couldn’t imagine shocking any of them.

With the hungry way Rowin was currently looking at her, she wasn’t thinking about anyone else anyway.

“Have you ever played Fox Says?” he asked as he began circling where she stood.

She crossed her arms. “Isn’t that game a bit juvenile?”

“Not the way we’re going to play,” he murmured.

His masked figure in the large mirror ahead of them mimicked his prowling movements. A fox indeed.

She met Rowin’s gaze as she lifted her chin and said, “Show me.”

Rowin’s grin widened. “Fox says remove your dress.”

Her blood began to heat.

Ah, so we’re cutting right to the chase.

He continued circling her, his hands clasped behind his back as he observed every little movement she made. She reached up to untie the bow at her gown’s collar, pulling the ribbon until it came loose. Then she began slowly unbuttoning each satin-covered button that ran in a line down to her navel. When the gossamer dress pooled onto the forest floor at her feet, she couldn’t even be bothered to care she was ruining yet another favorite article of clothing. Not when the expression on his face promised it would be worth it.

“Now, remove the rest,” he told her.

She didn’t budge, a smirk playing on her lips as she raised a brow. She wasn’t new to the game. He grinned.

“ Fox says ,” he allowed.

She removed her camisole and underwear then, and, once again, she was completely nude while he remained fully dressed. Such a thing might have felt like a power imbalance. But by the way Rowin’s body instantly reacted to the sight of her, bare, she knew she held the power between them despite the illusion that he tried to maintain.

He stepped square in front of her now and gently nudged her stance wider with his foot. She obliged despite the lack of verbal direction.

“Fox says”—he leaned down until his mouth was near her ear, the metal of his piercing cool against her heated skin and making her shiver—“put a finger inside that beautiful pussy for me.”

She was instantly wet. It should not have come as a surprise that a being of Hell could have such a perfectly sinful mouth, but the way he could elicit such a potent reaction from her with only a few words shocked her every time.

She did as he said, reaching down to pump a finger inside of herself, once, twice, before sliding it out to draw a slick circle against the tight, throbbing bundle of nerves between her legs?—

“I don’t think so,” he chided, hand snapping out to grasp her wrist. “I didn’t say to touch yourself there . If you don’t play correctly, you’re going to get punished.”

“That only makes me want to do it more,” she breathed.

He made a low, guttural sound deep in his throat before warning, “Behave, trouble, or our little game won’t last long enough for either of us to get what we want.”

She stuck her tongue out at the order, and to her surprise he bit it. Hard. She squeaked in shock as she ripped it back from between his teeth, sucking the sting out of it as he grinned.

“Behave,” he warned again.

Her body was practically vibrating with how badly she wanted to throttle him and to fuck him then and there. He had let go of her wrist, and she returned to her task, plunging a finger inside herself, gasping at how wet she already was.

“Good,” he murmured. “Now, taste yourself.”

She didn’t hesitate, pulling her finger back out and bringing it to her mouth, sucking away her glistening arousal with a moan.

A low rumble of laughter sounded in his chest, and she froze, realizing her mistake. He didn’t say Fox says .

He slowly lowered himself to his knees before her. “You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

She wasn’t sure if she should tell him that watching him get on his knees was the opposite of a punishment. A second later, however, and the tip of his tongue was drawing a slow, teasing circle around her clit, and every other thought emptied from her head.

She plunged her hands into his hair, needing something to hold herself steady as he nibbled and sucked at her. Her legs began to shake as his mouth moved against her, his tongue expertly penetrating her in a way that made her eyes roll to the back of her head. It took only a moment for her to reach the edge of her climax, and she tightened her hands in his hair as she prepared to crash over?—

—and then he stopped.

He pulled away and stood, licking his lips as he smirked at her enraged expression. “Punishment, remember?”

“This isn’t punishment, it’s torture ,” she snarled.

He ignored her as he ordered, “Fox says get on your knees.”

She crossed her arms, refusing to move as he walked around behind her, looking at her through their masked reflections. She wondered how many other pairs of eyes were on them in this moment, if any of Rowin’s admirers from the ball were amongst them, watching as she was about to get what so many had likely craved for years.

But he’s mine.

Her partner. Her lover. Her husband.

He stepped forward to press the length of his body against the back of hers now, his cock hard against her lower back through his trousers, and she watched in the mirror as he reached over to clasp a hand around her throat. He pressed kisses across her shoulder as his hand tightened around her neck with authority.

“You’re being a brat, again,” he murmured against her skin. “You can either listen or tell me to stop.”

She didn’t want to listen. She also didn’t want him to stop. Ever. And the war of those two facts battled it out inside her before she finally, slowly, knelt to the ground. He unwrapped his hand from her throat as she went, remaining standing as he spread her knees far enough apart that he could access her sex from behind. She watched her mouth part in the mirror, her chest heave, as he unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down just far enough on his hips to release his thick length. The chiseled muscles of his abdomen flexed as he pumped his cock into his fist, once, twice, three times, the tattoos of his chest and stomach writhing with his movements. That was when she noticed the golden hoop he had pierced through the head of his cock.

Holy shit.

When he finally knelt, behind her, the tip of him nudging at her entrance, the metal of his piercing made her gasp as he wrapped one arm across her stomach, reaching up to pinch one of her taut nipples while his other hand wrapped her hair around his knuckles so he could angle her face to the side. He captured her mouth in a scorching kiss as he tugged roughly on her curls, eliciting a loud moan from her throat.

He broke the kiss and said, “Let’s play a new game now. The Quiet Game.”

She whimpered as the hand on her breast switched sides, rolling the neglected rosy bud between his thumb and forefinger until she nearly came from the fusion of that pain and pleasure alone. He released her hair, draping it over her shoulder, and freed his hand to position himself at her entrance.

“Ready?” he asked. “For everything?”

She nodded eagerly. Yes. Please.

He thrust forward, and she had to bite down on her cry before she got herself punished again. He was large and she was tight, and it took a bit of adjusting before he was able to pump the full length of himself into her. He pressed an encouraging kiss to her temple as she took his strides without fuss, and she splayed a hand over her own tummy to feel the movement of him inside her. He reached his own hand between her thighs to draw lazy circles over her clit, and the moment he touched the slick bundle of nerves, she accidentally let out a mewl of pleasure.

He sighed and shook his head. “That wasn’t very quiet, trouble.”

He removed his fingers from between her thighs and, in one fluid motion, switched her position on his cock. Pressing her forward until her forehead was against the ground with her back arched up in the air, he thrust into her relentlessly. She dug her fingers into the earth, dirt wedging itself beneath her pristine fingernails as she tried as hard as she could not to make another sound. When he gripped painfully onto her waist for more control, she nearly lost that battle. She loved the little stings of pain that were chased away by the pleasure.

After a long minute of nothing except his grunts of satisfaction, his fingertips gripping onto her for dear life, and the thunder of their hearts, he finally pulled her up once again. One of his hands immediately went back to the aching bundle of nerves at her core, making up for the last minute of neglect and wringing an orgasm out of her in an embarrassingly short amount of time. He muffled his smug laugh against her shoulder as she nearly convulsed with the effort of swallowing the scream of ecstasy trying to erupt from her throat.

When it was over, she slumped back against him, but he didn’t stop. Only continued his lazy circles over her clit, the steady rhythm of his attentions almost agonizing now. Through heavy eyelids she watched him thrust into her in the mirror, over and over and over again, her breasts bouncing with the effort. She traced her gaze over the flushed, red marks his fingertips had left against her hips, the sight of them sending another flood of wetness between her legs. An inhuman sound of pleasure came from his mouth. His gaze met hers through the glassy surface, and she swore she’d never been so turned on by a sight in her life than by the two of them admiring their moving bodies together.

“This time,” he said gruffly, his voice so thick with lust it was barely recognizable, “you’re allowed to say my name.”

Without warning, he pinched her clit, hard, and she did in fact scream his name, her voice hoarse from choking down her last cry. As she rode the rest of her climax, he pulled out of her in one fluid motion, his fist reaching between them to pump himself to completion, but she didn’t give him the chance. She twisted around, sucking him into her mouth, tasting her own arousal as his seed began to spill down her throat. He watched her in awe. When he was done, she pulled back, licking her lips as she gave him a smile.

“That was my favorite game yet,” she drawled.

He brushed away dirt from her face before pulling her forward to capture her mouth in another heated kiss. She felt his hands start to massage the places he’d been holding on a little too tight, and she hummed against his lips with affection.

“I’m sorry if I left marks,” he told her as he pulled back.

“Don’t be,” she assured. “Maybe I can leave a mark on you next time.”

He stood now, offering a hand to help her up along with him. “As long as it doesn’t involve biting,” he agreed.

She pouted now. “But you’re so fun to bite.”

He gave her a withering look as he picked up her undergarments and handed them over.

As they both redressed, she wondered, “Do you think that will win us Favored?”

“Only one of us can win Favored,” he corrected as he rebuttoned his shirt. “Knox might let us win the Hunt as a pair, but he would never give up more than one boon from his treasure trove.”

“What does Sevin usually do to win?” she asked as she smoothed her hands over her gown.

The moment the words were out of her mouth, she felt the ring around her finger beginning to warm. Fast.

“Rowin—the ring!” she shouted as it grew ever hotter.

A second later, Sevin stepped out of the woods, absolutely drenched in black blood and grinning from ear to ear.

“Genevieve, run ,” Rowin told her.

“It’s just Sevin,” Genevieve reasoned, but even as she said it, she noted the wildness in Sevin’s crimson eyes, so different from the usual mirth she found there.

“That’s right, Vivi, it’s just me,” Sevin drawled. “Have you decided if you want to win?”

Genevieve swallowed as she inched back a step. “Yes.”

“Good,” Sevin told her sincerely. “That means you’ll fight harder.”

A twig snapped from somewhere behind him, and Genevieve nearly choked at the sight of an enormous silver wolf emerging from the trees, with Umbra wriggling in its jaws. So this was Sevin’s Familiar. The wolf tossed Umbra to the ground, and to Genevieve’s surprise the fox skittered over to her, not Rowin.

“ Genevieve, run ,” Rowin ordered again.

Sevin’s smile was grim. “Dante. Sic .”

The wolf lunged forward.