Page 62 of Twisted Cage

Dress bunched up at my waist, he lays every last part of me bare from the waist down—at eye level with him.

Gaze locked dead center, a whoosh of breath leaves his lungs. With my foot balanced on his thigh, my legs parted and completely open to him, the rush of air skims over all the right places.

His eyes flick to the array of lingerie next to my knives and sheath on the ottoman. “There will be panties covering this pussy when we walk out the door.” A growl tears from his throat just before he buries his face between my legs, his determined mouth closing over my clit.

I can’t stop the groan. My head falls back and my thighs quiver. The hot rush of blood filling my ears sets my heart racing under the bone-melting onslaught.

Stop him! You’ll never survive this!

My self-preservation’s voice grows weaker, sounding farther and farther away with every firm swipe of his hot tongue as he devours me.

Burying my shaking fingers in his long, silver-threaded hair, I hold on as I light on fire from the inside out, white-hot sensations almost painful in the voraciousness pummeling me from every direction.

Pulling back, he meets my gaze, his thumb casually stroking back and forth over my clit. With his mouth coated with my arousal, he gives me the single most sinfully satisfied smile I’ve ever seen. Rolling his lips into his mouth, he sucks every last bit of me from his lips.

“If my every bad decision combined in perfect balance to make a flawless forbidden fruit, it would taste just like you.”

His words rumble through me, as his lips suck me back into his mouth, while his tongue sweeps over me in relentless demand. The orgasm grows swiftly, with a heartbeat of its own, but before it takes hold, he wrenches his mouth away, the pleasure slipping out of reach, leaving me wet, aching, and wanting to punch his teeth down his throat.

I yank his head back with the grip I have on his hair. “What the fuck?”

His eyes flick to my thigh and a smug grin tips his mouth.

I glance down and the blood drains from my face. There, under the gentle glide of his thumb back and forth, he’s signed ‘Malikov’ starting at the inside of my thigh, wrapping around the front dangerously close to where the slit of my dress falls.

A Sharpie marker mocks me from the floor next to his shoe.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“Undoubtedly.” He makes quick work of the second shoe before reaching over to the ottoman, where he picks up my sheath and secures the leather strap to my thigh.

My throat thickens with the unexpected gesture. He knows what I am capable of, but he clearly recognizes how my knives have become integral to my feeling safe. Despite every reason why weaponizing me is about the worst idea he can have, he does it anyway.

I refuse to think about what it means. I will not let this one little gesture worm its way inside me. No.

His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “You know what, I don’t trust you.” He hooks his finger around a pair of panties in the exact same champagne shade as the gown. Holding them open at my feet, he glares up at me in silent command.

Despite being furious with him, I like him like this… looking up at me. Tunneling my fingers into the underside of his hair, tipping his head back even farther, I hold on.

He never looks away, not for a single second. The unhurried drag of the silk thong stokes the fire he started with his mouth. By the time he reaches the apex of my thighs, I am a panting mess with sweat blooming at the edge of my hairline.

I close my eyes, my chest heaving with the effort of my restraint. He took my virginity and I haven’t been touched since. A means to an end, we never had a chance to indulge in the intimacy or foreplay my body was so desperate for. This fleeting taste is excruciating in every way.

My eyes flicker open, locking on my reflection. The woman standing there looks thoroughly fucked despite being brought to the precipice of orgasm only to be denied by the man before her.

Who says the Devil will never kneel? Is there a better disguised evil than feigned acquiescence?

One long finger settles the string between my ass cheeks, deliberately dragging the tip from my pussy, over my asshole, and beyond, eliciting a desperate whimper.

Fingers clenched in his hair, I only just notice how I have tugged him closer, silently begging for what he denied me earlier.

“Mmmm, better.” His impossibly deep voice reverberates along my thigh. His featherlight kiss comes next, a momentary warmth from his lips through the silk followed by infinite nothingness.

With one last lingering touch, he stands.

He takes my chin with his forefinger and thumb and tips my face up to his. “Baby steps tonight, goddaughter of mine,” he says, smirking down at me. “You don’t want to give away all of your secrets.”

I stumble as he lets me go, rage making my blood pump furiously through my veins. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, but not loud enough to drown out his parting words.

---