Page 205 of The Wicked

I felt warmth from inside her, and I knew she was close, the way her body gave in entirely to me, submitting as I increased my pace, the heel of my palm rubbing against her clit with each stroke.

“Fuck… Elio… I’m close.”

I maintained my pace, and she held the back of my neck, her hips lifting.

I released her nipple, pressing my palm flat on her stomach, halting my movement and hers.

“What the—”

With three fingers still inside her, I stroked her clit with my thumb, circling the swell of her arousal sensually and shutting her up, letting her growing high dial back down into something torturingly sweet.

She rolled her hips to the swirling of my thumb, probably enjoying it.

I stopped.

She whined. “Seriously, what—”

My fingers moved inside her, thrusting and curling at a faster pace than before. Deeper until I felt her shiver when I touched that part of her that had her shivering when I entered her the first time.

I hit that spot with each thrust. She squirmed beneath me, writhing and heaving, wholly undone.

“Oh, please don’t stop.”

I stopped.

“Fucking hell, Elio. I swear to all things holy; I’ll be slitting your throat before you get to slit—mmph.” She whimpered, then I pulled my hand out and dragged my fingers up and down her slit. “You don’t plan on making me come, do you?”

“I do. Just not through my fingers.”

“What—”

I lifted myself off her. “I want to taste you. No—I apologize—I have been craving to taste you since that time in the car; I can barely control the urge.”

She blinked. “Then go ahead…”

“I will. But I also remember when you told me you could get off on my face; I’ve wanted to test that theory.”

Zahra’s brows rose; her lips curled into a sly smile as her tongue ran across her bottom lip. “This is one of the rare moments I appreciate your attention to detail.”

“That so?”

She nodded, quickly switching our positions until she was straddling me. “We really are a match made in hell.”

“A mistake.”

“One I’m pretty sure you’re grateful for.”

“You think so highly of yourself.”

“No one else does, so I gotta do it for me.”

“I think highly of you,” I told her, and it was the truth.

She looked genuinely surprised. “You do?”

“Hm. I like that you’re smart. That you challenge me.”

Her hand moved to the hem of my shirt as she pulled it over my head, throwing it to the side. For the first time since I became obsessed with cleaning, I didn’t focus on the mess we were making in my room. I was close to her, and she was the only thing that got my attention.