Page 22 of Intrigue (Dark Syndicate #4)

Selene

“Want me to change the music?” he asks as soon as we step inside.

I glance to the left where Cassian has set up a radio for slow, love songs, their syrupy croon slithering all the way here, where I’m perched, legs dangling, on the edge of the island.

“No,” I cough out, shaking my head even as the word spills free. “The music is good. Well, you’re in some mood. Was the food tonight that good?”

“Just happy to be with you, babe.”

He falls back to the kitchen sink, leaning the entirety of his weight there, before going on to study me.

He’s dressed in a loose-fitting sweater and slacks, clean-shaven, his face soft, boyish.

But the way he stares, those warm, hazel eyes sinking into me, it’s a slow, sticky trap, reeling me in, coiling tight.

When his eyes droop low, snagging on the swell of my breasts straining the shirt, his eyes darken, molten and hungry, and I feel everything all at once, a filthy rush igniting my veins.

I feel the evening breeze scratch against my forearms and neck. I think he’d left a window open before we went out for dinner. Or maybe, just maybe, I’d been the one to crack it wide, secretly aching for Sandro to slink through like he did all those nights ago.

I was in this position that night.

I feel the island, cool against my flesh, pressing into my skin, branding me, and I suddenly feel the guilt creeping in.

Just last night I was in another man’s bed. Today I’m laughing with another. I don’t think I can do this anymore. Fuck, the contract or whatever Sandro said. I can’t keep doing this to an innocent man.

I suck in a breath when he leaves the kitchen sink and comes to stand in front of me. He’s close enough for me to feel the heat rolling off him.

“You’ve been tense. I know coming back here has done a number on you, and I want to help ease that. That’s what I want, tonight, to pleasure you.”

“I’m a hard woman to please.”

I mean it as a joke, but he doesn’t laugh. Instead, his hands come up to my neck and stay. I moan softly as warmth starts to trickle down and pool between my thighs.

He swipes a tongue over the flesh of my neck, and I shiver, body jerking against my will. “Cassian, I need to tell you something…” My voice cracks.

“Shhh…baby. It’s been so long. We haven’t done it since we got here. I miss you.”

“I know you do. But…” He uses a bit of teeth now, first to graze the softness of my neck, teasing, then to bite down, hard, sinking in. I buckle where I’m sitting, a choked moan ripping out, but his hands pin me down, slamming onto my hips, anchoring me to the cold edge.

“No talking….”

“Cass…”

“Tell me what makes you feel good. Tell me what you want, baby, I’ll fucking give it to you.”

His tongue slithers from my neck to the back of my ear, that spot that unravels me, and he nips—with teeth and tongue and suction, relentlessly obscene.

“Oh, do that again…” He does it again, and I feel a rush of goosebumps swarm up my arms, my skin prickling, alive. “Cass…”

He pulls my shirt up over my head, roughly, and tosses it down on the floor like it offends him.

Cassian looks at my naked tits like he’s seeing them for the first time, raw hunger twisting his face.

I see him swallow, throat bobbing, just as he begins to grow in his pants, the outline thick, straining.

“I’ve been staring at your breasts in this skimpy shirt all night. You know it kills me when you skip the bra. And when you hopped up there the second we got back—Jesus, the way your tits bounced? You don’t even realize how sexy you are, do you?”

Ok. This is new. Cassian’s never been shy in bed, but now, his words hit harder, dirtier, sinking into me like a slow burn.

This is what I always wanted from him. It’s almost like he tapped into a version of him I’ve been asking for.

Or could it be because it’s been awhile?

He’s good at this tonight, too good, and it’s unraveling me, though a bit of Sandro’s rougher edge still lingers, uninvited, but I push it to the back of my mind.

I won’t let him in. Not tonight.

I grab a hold of the island on either side and lean back, spreading my legs wide in front of me, an invitation, a dare. I’m wearing shorts, sure, but that’s the only flimsy barrier between us. I’m not wearing any panties, my pussy bare. Since we weren’t going far, I decided to skip them.

Which isn’t my usual style.

It hits me now, a gut punch, that even while getting ready to step out, I didn’t think about Cassian. I wore this shirt and shorts, skipped the panties, because I was holding out hope for Sandro, that bastard who’s wormed into my blood.

Damn, how did it get so bad? Cassian is soft and safe and loves me, a warm cradle I’m supposed want, but Sandro is wild and carefree and dangerous, a complete opposite I shouldn’t crave but do, so badly it’s tearing me apart.

I want him.

I want him so badly it hurts, like a sick, throbbing wound.

I drag my focus back to the man in front of me and try my hand at a smile, brittle, fake. “Fuck me, Cassian. Make me forget about everything.”

What I mean is I want him to fuck Sandro out of me, to purge that gnawing need, to bury it under Cassian’s steady hands even when I’m this close to the safety I’ve been aching for since the start.

Cassian slides his hands to my breasts, cups one in his palm.

It doesn’t quite fit, spilling over, and it’s beautiful when I glance down.

Seeing my flesh spilling against his grip.

He squeezes softly, like he’s scared to break me, but when I look up, his face is wrecked—a man unhinged by want.

He’s drowning in this as much as he’s giving, but the need to pleasure me, to own me, wins out, a twisted bet he’s hellbent on cashing.

He presses a thumb around my nipple, circling, teasing, and I groan, loud, shameless. Then, without a word, he bends down and collects my hardened nipple in his mouth, hot and wet, sucking hard.

“Mmmm…that’s it…” My voice is a rasp, trembling.

He licks and twirls, working his tongue into the bud, all suction and sweetness, a filthy devotion that has me panting, arching my back into him, shoving my tits deeper into his face.

“Oh, yeah…Cassian…so…good…” I’m babbling, lost, my body a live wire.

He makes a deep sound in his throat, and shifts his attention from one wet nipple to the other, attacking it with the same relentless hunger until I’m blinded with a burning need.

I’m wet. Hell, I think I’m dripping in my shorts, soaking through, a mess for him—or someone else.

Cassian straightens and looks at me. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Selene…do you know that?”

“Yes…yes…I know…” I’m breathless, pleading.

He works the button on my shorts with his eyes still locked on mine, fingers steady, predatory, and when it snaps open, I lift myself up, eager, so he can peel them down. He brings the damp fabric to his nose and inhales deeply, a low growl rumbling out.

“I think I’m going to burst in my pants just from this,” he says, more to the small line of wetness he finds in the middle of my shorts. “Fuck, you smell so good.”

“Cassian—” My voice cracks, needy, warning.

“Spread your legs wider for me, Selene. I’m starving for a taste of you, gonna eat you alive…”

Oh God. Shit. Holy hell…

But I spread my legs for him wanting to forget Sandro.

When Cassian kneels down in front of me, like he’s about to worship at my altar, I imagine it’s Sandro—his scarred hands, his cruel mouth—kneeling there, ready to devour me, to tease and punish, to make me hate him and crave him until I’m nothing but a dripping, broken thing.

It’s the worst, I know, but in the face of such wrecking emotion, I become a woman—a filthy, feral woman.

“Beautiful,” Cassian murmurs against the insides of my thighs, his breath hot, vibrating down to my pussy where the wetness has gathered. I spread my legs wider, offering myself up. “I love the way you smell. Let me make you feel good, baby, let me tongue-fuck you ‘til you’re screaming.”

“Please…” It’s a whimper, a surrender. But it’s not for him.

He swipes his tongue between the lips of my sex, slowly before using his finger to part me open, exposing me. He looks up at me as his tongue teases the opening, sucking and dipping and taking me whole, a starving man feasting.

“Mmmmm…fuck…just like that…oh, yeah.” I’m loud, unhinged, filling the kitchen with my moans.

He groans as he sucks me, making these sweet, wild sounds, like I’m the one ruining him, like my cunt’s the drug he can’t quit.

The music has changed to something sad, a mournful wail I can’t fully grasp, but the tune seeps into me, and I’m sobbing before I even realize it, tears streaking as he unravels me.

Cassian slides two fingers into my pussy, curving them upward where he knows I’ll break, and pumps in, hard. I grip the edge of the island tighter, but lose control and fist my hands in his hair, tugging, pulling him closer.

He comes forward to me like a tidal wave, like a fevered dream, and takes me back in his mouth, tongue lashing through my folds even as his fingers fuck me deeper.

I hold his hair firmly and pull down, grinding against him. “I’m about to come, Cassian…I’m…going…to…come…don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.”

So, he doesn’t stop. He gives and he gives, a man possessed, until his face completely disappears from my sight. In his place is Sandro—smiling—kneeling there with his fingers and tongue buried in my pussy, giving me the release I’m dying for, the one I shouldn’t want.

I feel my body go stiff as the sensations crash, too much, too wrong. It’s a different kind of orgasm, warped and filthy, because while it’s Cassian—my fiancé—pleasuring me, it’s Sandro’s face that has me this fucked up, this lost.

It’s Sandro. It’s always him.

And I give in to it. Completely. Like it’s the only thing I’ve ever lived for, like he’s branded me from the inside out.