Page 94 of Only the Wicked

His grip on my hair tightens, and he jerks my head back.

“You okay with that?”

“Very.”

“You want my cock inside you?”

He wants a little dirty talk. Fine.

“Yes. I want to choke on your cock. I want you to thrust inside me so hard it feels like you’re going to split me in two. I want you to fuck me so hard sweat drips from your temple and you lose all control.”

“Fuck.”

The one word comes out with a growl. He flips me and I strain to see over my shoulder. With one hand, he releases his thick, hard cock. He positions his crown at my entrance and pushes inside. I’m turned on, wet even, but I’m not ready, and there’s a burn with the intrusion.

My cry sets us off. It’s not love making. It’s fucking. Dirty. Hard. Cruel.

And it’s what every single cell in my body craves.

Depraved punishment.

I deserve it. But there’s also desperate need, the same craving I feel—to connect with someone who sees through all the pretense. Even as he takes what he wants, I’m taking something too. Something I shouldn’t want.

By the time he shudders over me, a film of perspiration coats our skin. We’re halfway off the sofa and one heel dangles from the corner of a credenza across the room. He threw it when I pierced his skin.

He pushes up and swipes his forehead as his chest heaves.

With a shake of his head, he hitches his pants up to his waist. They never made it below his knees.

I wrap my arms around me, warming my middle, and pull my knees up. The skin between my thighs is sticky.

His cum.

“I’m going to use the shower.”

The absence of an invitation to join him chills the room.

I’m in over my head.

The bathroom door clicks closed.

I push up and pad barefoot into the bedroom. I step up to the closed bathroom door and put my ear next to the wood panel. The distinct sound of pouring water reverberates through the door and kicks me into gear.

I find an oversized T-shirt and panties in my bag and dig out my secure phone.

I shouldn’t call. It’s stupid and dangerous.

But I need to hear a friendly voice. Someone who knows who I really am.

Quinn answers on the first ring. I pull the bedroom door closed but sit outside on the floor where I can see a shadow below the door rim and will hear if the shower cuts off.

“Syd? Is that you?”

“Yes. I don’t have long. Is the team here?”

“Yes.”

“Are you listening?”