Page 73

Jasper

Fuck around

and find out.

Eden’s mouth parts.

In precious, na?ve surprise.

In a breathy, appalled rush of need.

In transparent lust , those pretty, puffy lips open.

.. and it takes an inordinate amount of self-control to stop myself from joining her on the bed and tasting it for myself.

Her bedsheets are tangled over her perfect breasts, and her glasses are knocked askew.

The jealous ire slips out of her eyes and, abruptly, she looks knocked askew—hesitant and heavy-lidded and flushed with uncertainty.

Vicious relish licks through me at her reaction. At finally giving her a command— that command. Lust squeezes my cock with a tugging, sucking pressure at the thought of her obeying it. Of her choosing it.

And it’s chased by the rampant, nervous anticipation that she won’t.

I lift one brow at her, waiting.

Hiding my own thundering pulse.

Lucien’s hand rests protectively on her thigh. His sweats are still halfway off, and his cock curves painfully upwards, full and rosy and glistening with want.

My possessiveness is almost enough to lock logic from my brain.

Eden meets my eyes, searching them, and I let my gaze travel over her body. I don’t soften it, not this time. I let her see all the filthy things I want to do to her. I let her see the bite they’ll carry, and all the reasons I need to be so, so restrained.

Delicately, she shivers, and satisfaction purrs through me.

But still, I wait.

I wait as color sweeps from her cheeks down to her chest. I wait as tension snaps in the air. I wait as her mind ticks through her choices—the abundance she has and can always make.

But I’m not asking any more.

If she wants my orders—if she wants me —then she needs to prove it to us both.

Lucien’s breath is suspended as he looks between us, but it’s not his turn now. He’s painted with my marks. Despite his shower, my scent is on his skin. My fingerprints bruise his hips, purpling to indigo between older, scarlet lashes, each set an exact inch apart. I’ve made art with him.

Eden, on the other hand, looks like she’s tangled with a bear and narrowly escaped with her life.

And still, her grip doesn’t ease from her sheets.

I swallow, watching the steely curl of her fingers. They might as well be strangling my nerves. My throat .

It’s a choking, fearful grip.

Because, whatever choice she makes, I do want her to crawl. I want it wretchedly .

But most of all, I want her to want that.

Jayk shifts back against the bed post, the crimson blanket slipping precariously over his obnoxious thighs. “Now, ain’t that funny. I’ve never had any trouble getting her on her knees.”

I’m going to kill him.

I shoot him a sharp, frosted look before I can stop myself—my writhing, murderous envy finally snapping free.

Along with an odd flickering of hurt.

It shouldn’t be so easy for them and so fraught between us. I hate it. I hate that she’s always trusted him like she’s trusted her next breath while I’ve given her so much cause to hesitate.

Her limits list burns against my palm.

I hate that I spent so long focused on whether we’d work as sadist and masochist that I neglected all the ways we’re flawlessly matched as submissive and dominant. As people .

Fuck Jaykob.

He assumes the worst of me every day, and I have been polite . I have been patient . I have given the beast every grace I can, but I’ve had enough .

Fuck civility.

If he wants to lay down a challenge, then I will answer it in a language this animal will understand. Tonight, Eden will be desperate for me .

I want more than her peace—more than silent, shared admiration.

I want her to bring herself low for me, to drag herself to me on her hands and knees, just in the hopes I’ll touch her.

I want to see her beg. I want her to abandon her reserve.

I want her to show me what a needy, wanton slut she is, for me .

I want her maddened. To prove that she wants me beyond reason. Beyond self-respect.

I want to see her crawl .

And how she responds now will tell me everything.

Does she want this? Does she trust me to give it to her?

Does she know I don’t want to make her less, no matter how low I drag her?

That white flag is still clutched around her, deliciously unsurrendered.

Her fingers twitch, and the way the delicate line of her throat works makes me want to bite into it.

She’s a fawn in the woods. An angel begging to be defiled.

With those piercing, luminous eyes, she examines me with as much anxious anticipation as I feel.

The others fade away as it all comes down to Eden... and that sheet.

Until, finally, she drops it.

It pools around her legs—it must—but all I can see is miles of soft, perfect skin.

Bare and blushed, she’s kissed with bruises and bites I want to replace with my own.

Her nipples are budded dark and tight, and the shadow of her wet cunt is a cruel tease.

I need to taste it—to bury my face in it. I need to feel it sucking at my cock.

My grip tightens on the chair as pride and lust and satisfaction and fierce, unholy relief slam into me, warring for dominance.

“Brave, beautiful girl,” I murmur, dizzied.

Over the falling of a sheet.

It’s such a small, simple movement, but the heady rush of her choosing this, choosing me , is raw. Intense.

Humbling.

I’m humbled as her eyes catch alight at the praise, and as a small, pleased smile replaces her solemn nerves.

I’m humbled as she leans forward, her palms sinking into the soft mattress.

I’m humbled by the hypnotic sway of her breasts.

By the way her thighs shift together, and her lips part as she watches me. As she crawls to me.

I’m humbled by her trust.

Chained to his post, Jaykob is dark and turbulent as she moves toward me, caught in that too-familiar space between jealousy and lust. I can hardly blame him. She’s lovely like this.

I absorb her every micromovement—the flutter of her lashes and the determined curl of her fingers in the sheets.

How her pulse flickers at her throat, and the strands of hair tease her fragile cheekbones and the crooked tilt of her glasses.

I study her like I want to make art of her, too.

I lean back onto my elbow and touch my lips to stop myself from flooding her with every foolish compliment trying to escape me.

Instead, I let her see it.

My open lust and my hard desire. Without words, I coax her forward, telling her she’s good, she’s perfect, that I want her. Her pupils are blown, and she stares at my mouth, my painfully confined cock, and I want her to see it. That she’s beautiful. Powerful.

She might be the one on her knees right now, but Eden has me entirely at her mercy.

Her back begins to arch prettily as she gains confidence—a graceful, proud curve that makes an obscene display of her dripping cunt for the men behind her.

Jaykob lets out a rough grunt.

“O-okay,” Lucky breathes hoarsely, his fingers digging into his thigh like he’s trying to find safe harbor. His eyes are fixed on her bare ass, empty of a plug. On her wet, greedy pussy, still throbbing for a cock.

And Eden knows it.

Her cheeks are lust dark, and her open, trembling lips catch me like a snare. The subtle, excited scent of her drugs the air, and the way she moves... It’s old. Primeval. The way she moves is a thing of sirens and succubi and men lured to hopeless ends.

She has us in thrall.

By the time she’s reached the end of the bed, she’s in chaos. Flushed and shaking with need, she stops in front of me, her hair a riverine torrent all around her, her breasts still swaying.

Suddenly, Lucien groans, his face tortured. The mattress slopes as he moves closer to her, and his swollen cock bobs.

“God, beautiful. I can... You need help with that? I can?—”

One hand grasps her ass, pulling her open. His head dips in, and vicious need clamps my balls.

But my irritation also spikes.

His mouth is a breath from her when I cut in. “Don’t even try it, Lucien.”

Eden’s toes curl in frustration, her pained eyes pressing closed. But just like earlier, there’s a moment of hesitation before he stops.

Unhappiness bites at me.

Lucien’s rough hand tightens on her ass, his mouth still an inch from her pussy. He breathes on her, over her sensitive flesh, and she shudders.

“It’s a waste,” he begs. “Jasper, please. Please. Let me taste her.”

Eden lets out her breath in a slow, trembling gush. Lucien’s shaking, too, as he pleads with me. His voice is a husky wreck as Eden makes a mess of herself an inch from his tongue.

My cock presses painfully against my zipper, jealous and enthralled and possessive of them both. The begging is sweet, and Eden is no longer sassing me, but . . . my pique at them lingers.

It’s my turn.

I rest Eden’s limits list on the arm of the chair, then pat my lap kindly, like I’m not throbbing with the perverted desire to have her naked, dripping body in my hands.

“Come here, sweet girl,” is all I say.

With a plaintive groan, Lucien releases her slowly, and Eden blinks multiple times, dazed and doe-eyed, trying to come back to herself as she slips off the bed. Her thighs are glistening, and I see the wet trails Lucien wanted to trace with his tongue.

Eden pads over to me, and I watch her, saying nothing as she stops in front of me and falls into a loose, natural Attention.

She has perfect form. It almost hurts to look at her.

Between the proud arch of her shoulders and the fevered color in her cheeks, her lust is painfully transparent, and it’s so much more obvious when she’s like this—that she’s too young.

Too eager. An old sadist like me has no business entertaining fantasies of a woman like this.

And yet.