Page 62 of XOXO

“Don’t move, Violet,” she says again, and the command in her tone makes my spine straighten.

Brynn circles around me. Her fingers skim over my body. They trace the top of my ass then glance over my hips.

Around and around, Brynn stalks me in a circle.

It’s the barest of touches, but the connection is intense. I force my hands together in front of myself, the stone between them, and it takes all of my effort not to release the halves and turn toward her.

Brynn chuckles darkly while she prowls. I stop watching her specifically and instead let my eyelids droop so that I only catch the movement in my peripheral vision.

It creates a dangerous edge that adds an intoxicating shot of adrenaline to the warmth in my veins.

I should feel safe with her, she’s saved my ass several times tonight, yet every alarm bell in my head alerts at once.

If Brynn is the big bad wolf, she’s welcome to eat me.

My hair still cascades over one shoulder. I never bothered to rebraid it after the fiasco at the gnome’s hideout.

Behind me, Brynn stands close—so close her hips brush against my ass and her breath is on my neck.

Black coats my vision. I close my eyes to focus wholly on her and the stone.

On how she waits patiently for me to respond.

On how her proximity is a dare to move that she doesn’t want me to take.

I don’t. Won’t. I’ve had the whole night with her to tell me to listen.

She pecks a light kiss on my shoulder.

“So fucking good for me, Violet. How should I reward you?”

Firm, insistent hands wash over my waist. I love having her behind me like this. It’s like she’s there to brace me while I face the world.

Wet lips return to my skin. She nibbles at my ear and sucks on my neck. The urge to drop the stone halves is so strong, it has a life of its own, but there’s no way I’m giving in now.

Brynn circles around in front of me. She tilts her head as her gaze wanders down my body.

“I’m going to touch you more. Tell me I can,” she murmurs.

I groan in response.

“Not good enough, Vi. Use your words and tell me I can make you come.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Please touch me,” I whisper.

“Good fucking girl,” she growls.

Her touch again is light. She flicks my hair over my shoulder and out of my face.

She walks her fingers over my shaking arms. I’ve been holding the stone closed for at least five minutes at this point, and my muscles quake, but there is no circumstance where I’ll let go before she tells me to.

Her hand ventures south, and she cups my core. Her fingers slide over me, and my arousal blooms under her attention.

“I’m going to take the stone now,” she says. “When it’s secure, I expect you to strip down for me and sit on the table.”

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