Page 50 of Intrigue

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.

“You’re mine! Not Cassian’s but mine!” Sandro’s voice snarls in my head as the orgasm slams through me, and I scream his name, the pleasure ripping from my clit to my belly to my chest. I moan his name as I finish.

I can feel him slightly pull back but I’m too lost in the euphoria, emptying myself in Cassian’s mouth, a flood of wet heat he drinks down.

Then the haze clears.

Cassian rises from the floor and takes a step backward, looking torn, gutted. I crash back to earth when my eyes catch his, because I know I’ve done the worst thing on earth, betrayed him with a ghost.

“You called his name,” he tells me, voice flat, like I don’t already feel the knife of it. Then he turns around, flips on the faucet in the kitchen sink, and splashes water on his face, hands shaking. He breathes heavily with his back turned against me as he says again, “You just came with his name on the tip of your tongue, Selene.”

Looking at him now, I realize I have a choice to make—a choice I need to make right now or risk losing my sanity to this festering, twisted rot eating me alive.

Cassian’s back stiffens at the sink. My thighs still tremble, slick with his spit and my shame, the island cold under me. I scramble for my shorts, pulling them up. Guilt drowns everything else, choking me with what I’ve done.

I ought to say something—anything—but what words could undo this?

“You called his name,” he says again, quieter now, like he’s testing the wound. He turns, eyes red-rimmed, blazing. “Say it, again.” His voice is eerily calm, but I hear the fracture beneath, the tight coil waiting to snap.

I shake my head. “Cassian, I—”

“Say his name. You had no problem moaning it while I had my mouth on you. What’s stopping you now?”

Shame scorches through me, but anger shows too, rising like bile. “It was a mistake.” I grab my shirt from the floor, hastily dragging it over my head. “I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean to say it? Or didn’t mean to think of him while my tongue was inside you?” Cassian steps forward, closing the space between us in a heartbeat. “Because we both know the truth.” His voice drops. “He’s the reason, isn’t he? The reason why you haven’t let me touch you since. Why you keep saying you’re tired or that we should wait for the wedding.”

“Cass...”

“You’re in love with him.”

I step toward him. “Cassian, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t.” He jerks back, hands slamming the counter. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You screamed for him while I was on my knees for you.” His voice cracks. “What the hell, Selene. What am I to you? Some stand-in while you cry for him?”

My chest caves. “You’re not. I swear, you’re not. I just…” I falter, words crumbling. How do I explain this?

Cassian scoffs. “There it is. No denial. No argument. Just the truth, sitting ugly between us.”

I glare at him, not sure why I am getting angry. “And what do you want me to say, Cassian? That I don’t dream of him? That I don’t hear his voice in my head every goddamn day? That I haven’t spent every second trying to erase him? I wanted to forget him! I wanted you to be the one! But he’s in my fucking blood, and I can’t rip him out no matter how hard I try!”

He laughs, bitter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Oh, I see how hard you’ve been trying,” he says, his tone dripping in sarcasm. “You have not in any way been showing that you’re still hung up on that bastard.” He steps closer. “Tell me you don’t want him. Look me in the face and say it.”