Page 75 of Twisted Cage

“There’s an art to fucking in public.” The words slither along the back of my shoulder as he nudges my thighs apart. “First, choose your goal.” He smooths his knuckle along my cheek and takes a wisp of hair between his fingers, rubbing the strands together before tucking them behind my ear.

My heart skips, then sets to racing out of control behind my ribs.

“Do you want them to see you get utterly destroyed by my cock? Or do you want to get away with it?”

His fingers brush over my clit and I cry out. My vision blurs as the threads of panic take hold in my racing heart and I slam my hand over my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut as pleasure pulses deep with every sweep of his devilish finger.

Champagne rocks in my glass as I bring it hastily to my lips, as though I can wash away my whimpers. “And if I want both?”

His fingers disappear. But I’m right there chasing after them, sticking my ass out shamelessly.

“My fearless little goddaughter is greedy.” His zipper sounds impossibly loud behind me. I can’t help but search the crowd below, even though I know it would have been impossible for them to hear. “If we want to live to fuck again—tonight, we get away with it.”

Across the way, I spot Roddick standing stoically at the bottom of the opposite staircase, his gaze sweeping the room and then—Jesus. My breath lodges in my throat and I reach for Konstantin’s hand where it’s holding my gown.

I plan to shove him away, but an exquisite warmth burns through me with Roddick’s narrowed gaze. The crackle of nerves zing just under my skin, as shocked understanding lights his face. My senses heighten. The music, the laughter, the thundering echo of my heart all grow louder, the lights brighter with flashes of color. A vibrant onslaught advancing from every direction.

He knows. I know he knows. And I don’t care. I want him to watch. I ache to be seen. I need to relieve myself of the bone-deep exhaustion I carry every second of every day, hiding my feelings for Konstantin.

The vision of Konstantin’s legs widening enters my peripheral vision. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he’s gripping my thighs, lifting my ass up, making my back arch as I clutch the railing.

“Wet for Rhodes, my ass… your pussy is terrible at hiding your secrets, Pcholka. You’re positively dripping.” With one thrust, he buries his cock to the hilt.

My eyes lock with Roddick’s. My breath lodges in my lungs. His cock stretches me mercilessly until I’m filled with pain. Sweet, forbidden, and addictive, it’s a special agony getting everything you want savagely delivered.

I smile and sink my teeth into my lip, my eyelids growing heavy as my walls strain against his invasion.

Roddick’s lips part in surprise, his eyes narrow, and the red stain of embarrassment blooms on his cheeks.

But he doesn’t look away.

I clench the railing, my knuckles turning white with the force.

A scathing growl tears from his chest as his forehead falls forward into the valley between my shoulder blades. Hot, ragged exhales fan over my spine and his fingertips dig into my thighs as he anchors himself to me. The combination of our labored breaths drowns out the cacophony of sounds from the party below.

“Burying my cock in this weeping, hot cunt is the single most religious experience of my life.” His lips linger along the skin between my shoulder blades, his cock slowly sliding out of me. “You are my religion now. And I’m your most devout worshipper.”

He punctuates the words by sinking his teeth into my flesh where my neck meets my shoulder as he plunges deep once again. The stem of the champagne glass snaps in my hand, leaving a sharp sting behind as the glass slips from my slack fingers and crashes to the floor at our feet. What’s left of the champagne splattering my ankle.

Warmth trails down my finger. I stare blankly at the blood rolling along my finger where the fractured stem sliced me open as threads of bliss flare to life inside me.

“Mmmm, give me that,” he says as he curls his hand around my wrist. He brings my finger to his mouth and drags his tongue along the path of blood streaking along my skin.

My lips part in a sharp hiss when he sucks my finger into his mouth. Warm and wet, he gently sucks, lapping over the wound over and over as he rocks his hips in time with the soothing swipes of his tongue.

Abandoning his grip on my thigh, he strokes over my swollen clit. Every sensation combines into one demanding tempo. His hard and heavy cock rocking into me, his hot, wet tongue laving my skin, and the incessant circles he sweeps relentlessly over my clit, until my legs tremble uncontrollably.

Droplets of sweat bead along my hairline until they break free and trail along my skin. No longer able to draw in enough air to fill my starving lungs, I’m clinging to consciousness by a series of sharp pants leaving me dizzy and off-balance.

Just when I think I’ll crumble into a heap on the floor, he rams inside me, pinches my clit, and bites down on my finger. My eyes shoot open as a blindingly white explosion tears through me. I’m spasming from head to toe, my pussy greedily squeezing Konstantin’s cock.

“Fuck, yes. Choke my cock, Pcholka. Just like that.” My finger pops free from between his lips, my arm falling limply to my side as he yanks me onto his cock with a hard grip on my hip.

Grasping the back of my neck with his other hand, he delivers one last thrust, anchors deep, his cock spasming and filling me with his hot release.

Suppressing my every emotion, every reaction, finally takes its toll as hot tears spill over my eyelids, blazing hot trails down my cheeks.

Clinging to the railing, I struggle to calm my racing heart. When Konstantin slides out of me, loneliness rushes in with the stark realization I can’t have this. That in my head, I’ve made it into something it’s not. I’ve pretended he’s in love with me and not just obsessed with replacing what he can never truly have.

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