Page 111 of Lana Pecherczyk

“I messed it up.” She winced, tracing her finger along the raised flesh of his newly inked chest. “You shouldn’t have let me do this big one.”

“Say big one again.”

“Stop it.”

“Never.”

“Take a look. Please?”

Holding her palm captive against his skin, he glanced down. Stray ink marks were scattered across his chest. A wobbly line curved where it should have angled. That crow’s beak looked more like a wolf’s muzzle. But every time he would look down or catch his reflection, he’d remember how she’d looked above him now, how she smelled, how she smiled at him like she didn’t see the cracks.

“Maybe someone else can fix my mistakes when we get to the Great Murder.” Her sigh stirred the fine hairs on his chest.

“Don’t you dare say that.” His voice hardened. “It’s my honor to be the canvas for your mistakes.” He guided her finger to a splotchy mark. “When I see this one, I’ll remember that first bump lifting your hips off mine. You made that little breathy squeak when I caught you.”

He slid her finger to a wobbly line. “This wasn’t even from a bump. I cracked a joke about you pricking me, and you laughed so hard you slipped.”

She snorted. “Oh yeah.”

He traced her finger down his abdomen to another spot, his voice deepening. “And this one, remember?”

She bit her lip, failing to hide her smile. “I dropped the needle, and it stabbed you.”

“Mm.” His hands slid up her thighs, fingers slipping beneath the slits in her windways. “And you learned a valuable lesson on proper prick grip.”

Her laugh was the sun breaking through storm clouds.

She knew nothing of his past. Nothing of nights spent drenched in sweat, heart hammering, memories of betrayal and violence clawing through his mind. The distant ones hauntedhim, but the recent ones—Cloud’s lightning strike, the empty look in his former friend’s eyes—carved deeper, demanded more blood.

If he were any kind of hero, he’d warn her about the darkness coiled inside him. But right now, all he could focus on was her pussy soaking through her pants to his, her softness squirming against his hard shaft, those plump lips forming words he craved to taste.

“Yeah.” The word came out breathy as her palm slid across his abdomen. “I think we’re done here.”

“Tell me what’s next, Sparkles.”

He waited for her to recite the challenge details from memory, preferring to watch her lips shape words rather than read the pages himself.

She squirmed again, lower lip dragging through teeth as she tried to focus while he pulled her hips against his.

“Out loud,” he rasped. “I need to hear you say it, need to know we won’t cross lines you’re not ready for.”

“Four, each shares three fantasies to explore. One, a gift of pleasure your mate will adore.” Her cheeks flushed.

“And?”

“Then let your primal instincts out to play, with sexual chemistry now guiding your way.”

The truth tasted bitter, but she deserved to hear it. “There’s a lot of space between those lines, Sparkles. The toys are just suggestions. Explore can mean discuss. Fantasy can mean a daydream. Just because it says sexual chemistry doesn’t mean we have to?—”

Her growl cut through his words, vibrating against his chest.

“Stop putting this off, or I’ll think you’re avoiding me again.” She jabbed a finger against his sternum. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how I’ve spilled me guts while you’ve barely whispered a word about your past.” Her accent thickened with frustration.“You have to give me something real here too. Not something accidental. Something deliberate.”

He’d hoped she hadn’t noticed his evasions. “Am I in trouble now?”

“No.” Her eyes flashed as she untied her hair, letting the cascade tumble around her shoulders. “Unless that’s one of your fantasies? Being punished?”

“If by punish, you mean sit on my face, then yes. Fuck yes.”