Page 32 of Unveil

He pulls my bodice down until my nipples pop free, forcing my small breasts to rise obscenely to my chin. I gasp as he dips in, licks, blows, and sucks on one, making it pebble while he tweaks the other with his fingers, then switches. The connection zings to my clit.

“Zy!”

He jolts, pinching my nipple and biting into my other breasthard, making me inhale sharply.

“That’s not my name,” he growls.

“What?” I ask, confused.

He nips again, making me yelp. Then his lips skate up my chest and neck with open-mouthed kisses, tongue, and teeth, ending with his hands cupping my breasts and his lips over my pulse at my neck.

“I am yourfiancé, Luna Bordeaux.”

I hum, “My fiancé.”

For the first time tonight, Ilovethe sound of that.

“Only mine,” he says low, erupting goosebumps down my neck and chest.

“Only yours,” I pant, lust clouding my mind.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, then nods to the standing mirror across from us. My tutu is pushed up to my hips now, and I have the perfect view of my legs splayed out for him as his hand drifts down to cup my sex. “Now watch me taste this sweet cunt for the first time.”

My heart stops and my mind is a foggy cloud of lust as I obey him. He hooks a finger under fabric that’s slick with my arousal and pulls it aside, tightening the elastic around my upper thigh.His long finger teases my clit before gliding through my arousal to barely enter me.

“Please,” I moan.

“Tell me you want me to taste you. Tell me you want yourfiancéto taste you.”

“Please…” My eyes are locked on the version of me begging in the mirror, needy and willing to do anything for him, despite this sham of an engagement. “Fiancé. I need you to taste me.”

His voice lowers an octave. “Anything for you, my bride.”

He kneels for me and curses. My gaze snaps away from the man in the mirror to the one looking at my sex like he’s starved for me all this time.

He grips my thigh over my tattoo with one hand, and the other spreads me to swipe his tongue through my arousal.

I cry out as he swirls the bundle of nerves at the top. His eyes lift to mine, and I suddenly ache to see the rest of him behind the black mask, but my wrists are still tied behind my back.

He pushes tulle higher around my hips, giving me a better view as his tongue laves into my core, up and down through my arousal and around my clit.

“Mirror,” he murmurs, and I drag my gaze back to our reflection.

My body heaves, a rosy flush blooms from my breasts up to my cheeks as I bite my lip and ride his tongue. I look wanton and desperate, rebellious in the best ways.

He moans into my core as he feasts on me, and his growing hardness tents his jeans. That reaction? It’s forme. He grips both thighs to spread me now, putting his whole body into making me feel good. And it feelsamazing, but now all I want is him in my mouth.

I lick my lips and swallow so I can gather my courage to tell him so, but my throat’s gone dry.

Strange. I’m mentally salivating for this man, but my body hasn’t gotten the memo.

His tongue dips into my core, swirling around the entrance, and I moan as sensation rips through me. I try to keep my eyes open to watch him devour me, but I’m barely hanging on by a thread as it is. I slip against the mirror, and catch myself by digging my heels into his upper back.

He chuckles against my core, making me shiver. “Patience, my little bird.”

I don’t know where this nickname came from, but I’m digging the way his accent drips over it like syrup. He grips my leg like he owns me, hand slipping under the lace garter that holds my phone to palm my tattoo. His own skull tattoo cover his hand and letters cover his knuckles?—

I frown.