Page 100 of The Wicked

A taunting smile played on her lips.

She lowered the sweatshirt.

I dropped my gaze.

Fuck.

Piercings. Her nipples were pierced. Erect. Brown against full breasts.

Was I impressed by it? Yes.

Was there an uncomfortable aching in my tongue and cock? Yes, which I concede is a normal reaction. Did I need this reaction? No. This was useless… this was…temptation.

She pulled the sweatshirt down the rest of the way, covering herself and raking her fingers through her wet hair.

I raised my gaze again, catching a smile from her, her stare flickering from my eyes to the strain against my pants. She took two steps closer to me, just enough for me to get the now distinct, distracting smell from her hair, enough for me to feel what warmth from her body would have felt like—enough to take me back to that shed, where her body pressed flush against mine.

She tilted her head. “I admire your control, Elio. It makes me wanna…challenge it.” Then she subtly scrunched her nose to show her pending excitement for challenging my control. “I’ll wait for you in the car,” she said. “I could eat, and then we’ll talk about today… Don’t take too long.” And then she reached behind me, purposefully brushing her chest with mine as she grabbed the nightgown she had been wearing before heading out of the washroom.

I released a breath, closed my eyes, and moved my neck from left to right, willing for a semblance of control.

It wouldn’t matter…

In a few hours, it wouldn’t matter.

Focus…those piercings… focus.

I hissed, snapping my eyes back open and glaring at the wall.

“Fucking witch.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Zahra

Elio got into the car, all clean from the blood on him, making it a point to avoid looking at me.

I fed off attention and control. In whatever position or situation I found myself, I always made sure the rein of control remained firm in my grip. Losing it would shove me right back into that scared sixteen-year-old girl—the spineless Zahra who chose the wrong person to hold her hand under the guise of freedom.

With Elio, I held the reins, but there were just times when my control flickered. Flashing him hadn’t been my plan to get his attention. A part of me just wanted to see his reaction, and boy, was it priceless. His eyes had been lust personified.

It excited me.

It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t because after I left that damn washroom, I felt guilt cloud my senses. What would Devil think if he discovered this new development?

I couldn’t want this man beside me. But I did want to play with him.

I was itching to tease him till he was at his brink—but God—that expression on his face when he walked in and saw me half naked.

The control that had been at the top of my palm. The reaction it had elicited.

After leaving the clutches of those sex traffickers, I’d made all my sexual encounters ride on my terms. We had an equal say. Don’t grab. Don’t own unless I ask. I never did. The fear of giving my trust to a man and letting him take me was not something I liked experiencing. But damn it to hell if I didn’t—somehow—likethe way Elio had arrived at that shed and shot Buzzcut, holding me firm to his body afterward.

My pride seemed to be nonexistent.

While I liked to be the one in control most of the time—my gaze shifted from the road to Elio, who had an elbow resting on the window while his tattooed fingers rested on his cheek and his lips, his other hand controlling the steering wheel—I wondered how it would feel to be owned by a man like him.

I wanted to drive him to the edge, make him lose control, let go of the reins, and see what he would do to me.