Page 71 of Veil of Obsession

Something darker.

I lean down, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“Tell me,” I murmur. “Why me?”

She swallows, but doesn’t answer. I let my hands roam lower, tracing the curve of her waist, dragging my palms over the full swell of her hips. She feels so fucking good under my hands—soft, warm,mine.

“You’ve been watching me for years,” I whisper. “Following me. Taking pictures. Yet when I finally see you, you run.”

Her breath catches, her pulse fluttering beneath my lips. I smile.

“Do you want me?” I murmur.

She nods, barely a fraction of movement.

I slide my hand lower before trailing up her bare thigh beneath her nightgown, gripping the flesh, feeling the way she tenses. The way she melts.

“Say it,” I demand.

She hesitates for a second—one last act of defiance—before finally exhaling.

“I want you.”

That’s all I need. I grab the hem of her nightgown and pull it up, exposing the soft skin beneath. She’s still facing the mirror, her gaze locked on mine in the reflection.

She looks wrecked already. And I’ve barely fucking touched her.

I grip her jaw with one hand, forcing her to hold my stare, while the other slides lower, my fingers slipping beneath the lace of her panties.

Jesus. She’s already soaked.

I groan, pressing my lips against her neck and dragging my tongue over her pulse.

“Look at you,” I murmur against her skin, my fingers teasing her slit, dragging through the slickness before circling her clit. “Dripping all over my hand.”

Her breath shudders, her fingers digging into the counter as her thighs start to shake.

I don’t rush. I tease. Slow, lazy strokes, just enough to make her hips twitch. To have her arching back against me, desperate for more.

Her ass presses into my cock, the perfect curve fitting right against me. I groan, my other hand wrapping around her throat, forcing her to keep watching.

“You see that?” I whisper. “How fucking needy you look right now?”

Her lips part on a soft, breathless moan, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glazed over in the mirror. I push my fingers inside, slow at first, feeling the way she clenches around me, the tight, wet heat making my cock ache.

She gasps, her hands flying to the counter to steady herself. I stretch her, my fingers thick, demanding, filling her in a way that has her whimpering, her back arching, her ass grinding harder against me.

I groan. “Fuck.”

I press deeper, my thumb circling her clit in lazy, torturous strokes, watching as her body trembles, her thighs shaking from the pressure. I drag it out, keeping her on the edge, feeling the way her walls tighten around my fingers, feeling her body begging to break.

She whimpers, rocking her hips, chasing more, more, more. I grip her throat tighter, bringing my lips to her ear.

“Look at you. Being a fucking whore for me.”

She moans, her body burning, breaking. I pick up the pace, curling my fingers inside her, fucking her open, pushing her closer, dragging her higher. Her breath turns ragged, her hands clawing at the counter. Her thighs squeeze together, her back bowing, her hips rolling faster, more desperate.

“Lucio—”