Page 48 of Tempest

His hand moves from my arm, and in the seconds it takes to go from left to right, he’s undone the zipper at my back.

“No!” I clutch at the front of my gown, terrified he’s about to expose me in front of everyone.

His resultant laughter contains true glee. I hate him. God, I hate this man. “Relax, princess. I’m not about to show anyone my prize. Not one fucking soul will see you the way I do. Ever.”

Tempest’s hand moves into my dress, flicking against my underwear and diving under the straps.

“Tempest—” I gasp.

“Why do I love the way you say my name?” he muses into my neck. He tastes the line of my nape, then behind my ear. His words become tangible when he whispers them at the shell of my ear, their meaning cascading down my body in shivers. My head drops back, close to his beating, black heart. “I have more important things to do. But I don’t want to do any of them until I’ve got you out of my system.”

“I … don’t…”

“Finish your sentence, princess. You don’t what?” His hand drifts across my hips, then spreads flat against my stomach, pulling me tighter against his chest. No, against his—his—you know.

I’m hyper-focused on Tempest’s pinky finger and the sensation of it going down, past my pelvis, into my pubic hair.

“There are people. Someone will see.” My voice barely has sound. It’s mostly breath and a whole lot of panting.

“If anyone decides to tear their eyes away from Morgan’s fucked-up Satan circus, that’ll be the best day of my life. Until then … hmm.” Another finger wanders in with the first, finding my folds. “If I were you, I’d be more concerned that if you can’t fit my fingers in, you definitely won’t be able to fit my cock.”

Horror almost chokes me. “You can’t. You wouldn’t.”

I might as well have dared him. Tempest slides one finger in as easily as parting through silk. I’m wet for him. If I’m to be honest, I became wet the instant he peeled out of the shadows and into my path.

I’ll never admit it.

“Do you want to know how many of my fingers it takes to become the size of my cock?”

My knees give out. I’m held still purely by Tempest’s determination to unravel me.

True to his promise, he slips another finger in, then another, before stroking in and out and thumbing the most sensitive part of me to take it along for the ride, too.

“Te—Tempest…” I breathe out. My eyelids feel heavy. My tongue is like butter against my teeth. I’m electrified and soothed all at the same time, and my natural instinct to meet his thrusts happens instantly.

“There’s a good girl,” Tempest says into my ear. His breaths are harsher. His words raspier. “Decadent, sweet, and all for me. You have no idea how much I needed this after tonight.”

“Don’t stop.” My attention’s tilted to the stars as I fall back against him, his fingers dancing expertly into my core.

He slips another one in.

“You’re tight.” Tempest curses. “Fuck, the idea of fitting my dick into you right now … you’d scream, cry, then beg for more.”

“And you?” I hitch out, gyrating with him, so close, so close… “What would you do?”

He laughs, tight and uncomfortable. I’m not the only one wanting to come. “It’s a lot to take, isn’t it? Imagine the whole of me inside you, princess.” Tempest bites my shoulder. Instead of yelping, I moan. “Oh, good girl. You like the pain I bring you. The promise of sex.”

“Y-You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t have to when it’s perfectly obvious I’d fuck you until you pass out. That’s how much I want you.”

The idea of Tempest actually wanting me, the revelation, I bite back a loud moan, but the spread of butterflies in my middle won’t allow me to stifle such beauty.

I buck against him. My hands move to where his arm is nestled under my dress, and I hold him there. I hold him so I can ride him.

Tempest’s breaths are shorter. Brutal. My hair blows against my cheek with every sharp exhale of his. Someone cries out, another cut to a nameless palm. “I want to time your pleasure perfectly with their pain. Ready, princess?”

“Yes.” I couldn’t deny him if I tried.

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