Page 77 of Terror Tuesday

My hips move with purpose—grinding, swaying, dragging every slick inch of myself over his mouth while his tongue works with devoted desperation. He isn’t just devouring me—he’s worshipping. Learning.

And he figures it out.

Running my hands through his luscious locks, I tug on them as I bounce on his mouth. Sliding myself back and forth. He’ll probably have rug burn on his face just as much as my thighs.

My moans dissolve into gasps as my rhythm stutters. I grip his hair tightly and rock against him like this is the first time I’ve let go of control.

“Oh, my god. Yes. Right there.” I’ve never taken charge. And spitting out the commands, shoving his head where I need it…it’s not like me. But it feels good.

He mumbles something into my entrance, his tongue fucking me there as I work myself over his face. I can’t tell what he’s saying, but I don’t care. The pleasure is unstoppable. The sounds wet and pornographic. Wails escape from my throat and escalate to fill the room, and I don’t even care if Sora hears.

I grip the headboard tighter, knowing I’m about to lose it, ready to explode everything I have all over his face. When hegroans, it vibrates through me like thunder. His hips jerk. And just as I come, a cry rips from my throat before I can stop it:

“V!”

The orgasm hits like a wave breaking over stone, soaking everything. I’m gushing, screaming, trembling. And I coat his chest, chin, and face with my arousal. I can’t breathe.

I stumble off of him, heartbeat wild, and dash to the bathroom. My face is flushed with what just happened, and embarrassment. Can I go back in there and look him in his gorgeous eyes? Well, I can’t stay in here all night.

When I return with a towel, I untie the belt, and he wipes his face, then his thighs, smiling like he just saw heaven.

“I… I don’t even know what happened,” I whisper, suddenly unsure, vulnerable. “I think I— Did I just…?”

“Yousquirted,” he says, voice breathless and awed. “And it was fuckingincredible. You made me come just fromthat.”

He hesitates like he wants permission, then I lean in and kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue. His jaw is red, raw from friction, and somehow, that only makes me want him more. I’m relieved he hasn’t mentioned the word I called out as I came…but I’m also nervous he will.

Sweetly, he brushes my hair back off my shoulders and grips my chin with his finger and thumb. And he grows serious again. When he does, that fear returns. The one that says there’s danger lurking just underneath his surface. “This wasn’t just athingfor me.”

Taking a deep inhale, I swallow back all reservations. He presses his forehead to mine, and the electricity between us only heightens. “Not for me either.”

And yet…

I called out for Vanq…

twenty-one

I’ve waitedthe appropriate amount of time before pouncing.

But she refuses to sleep. Instead, she paces, wringing her delicate hands, breath hitching in her throat. Waiting. Forme.

The man whose name she screamed when she came.

My pulse no longer pounds with rage. It’s slower now: deliberate, lethal. Almost…calm.

And ready to hunt her the fuck down.

Moonlight glimmers against the glass as I burst through her patio doors. She startles violently, pressing her back against the far wall.

“I knew you’d come,” she breathes out. One trembling hand lifts as if it could hold me off.

It can’t.

With each prowling step closer, I greedily inhale her exotic scent laced with fear. Tonight, I don’t tamp down my emotions—I let them roar through me, molten hot.

“If you knew,” I murmur darkly, “then you must also know what happens next, my Monarch.”

My fists slam into the wall on either side of her head. She jolts with a gasp. I bury my nose deep in the curve of her neck, relishing the perfume of her terror before growling low in her ear, “Where did he touch you?”