Page 14 of Wicked Court

Wilder

Elara seethes with her plump, reddened lips, “Magic is bullshit. Just like your pickup line.”

I say in a forced, amused tone, “Ah, so you think I’m trying to flirt with you? How flattering.”

The way her golden eyes bore through my cheap Halloween mask and burn against mine sends my heart into an irregular rhythm. I’m confused by my reaction until I shove the emotion aside.

Her upper lip twists in an adorable version of a sneer.

“I don’t know much about flirting, but I assure you I am quite … unconventional.”

My words leave a tingle in their wake, like I have just whispered them into her ear instead of the air between us.

Now that she’s getting worked up, she’s even more enticing. The scent of her arousal and irritation is all-consuming, making my cock harden in my pants.

Elara’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red as she curses and struggles beneath my firm grip on her arms. “Keep dreaming, big guy.”

“Let me guess, Elara,” I bare my teeth in an insult of a smile behind my mask, the plastic dragging roughly across the side of her face as she scrunches her eyes shut and whimpers. “Your type is probably those polite mama’s boys, right? The kind who say ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ meet your parents on your third date, and take you to church on Sundays?”

I press in closer, anger turning my blood hot, rushing against my ears. “Let me tell you a little secret—it’s the assholes who make your heart race and keep you up at night, wondering what it would be like to fuck them.”

I raise my head, pulling my mask off so she can see just how much vindictiveness is behind my killer smile. “I’m not the boy you bring home to mom. I’m not even the one you sneak out for at midnight. I’m the monster under your bed, and you’ve let me corner you.”

There’s a tension between us, thick and electric as she breathes heavily and holds my stare, her eyes wide with fear but sharp with spite.

I’m not just teasing her; I’m testing her boundaries, pushing her to admit there’s more to her than the perfect facade she shows off to everyone else. And for a fleeting moment, I see that shift in her expression, a fracture hinting that she’s intrigued and more than a little curious by my words before she staunches it.

Now who’s wearing the mask?

I bite my lower lip. This just got exciting.

My fingers graze her warm thighs under her dress, drifting to the middle and up, where she can’t close off or clamp down, slipping underneath the silk fabric of her panties, tracing patterns just above her pussy that make her tremble, whimper, and wrench her hips to stay in control. I reach higher with my other hand while she stiffens against the tree until I cup one pale, perfect breast through her bra before pinching the hardened nipple roughly.

She gasps, her head rolling back and knocking against the gnarled bark before she realizes what she’s doing.

“Relax, I’m just teasing you, sweet little witch,” I promise with a deceptively soft voice. “You’re not ready for just how much I require to be sated.”

I lower my mouth and nip at her bottom lip until it quivers, then I bite. Her taste is of vanilla and spice, sweet and hot.

I push my body against hers, savoring the feel of her perfect curves against my hard muscles, small, perky breasts with pebble hard nipples that I’ve always fantasized about tasting in class poking me below my pecs.

It’s not long before I bend at the knees and take one of those peaks between my teeth, sucking through the fabric roughly, feeling her shudder and grab my shoulders—pushing at first, then clenching, then pulling me closer while she arches into my mouth.

She groans into the night air, lost to me as I move to the other breast, sucking and biting until she’s moaning louder.

The wind around us picks up, rustling the leaves and sending chills down her exposed cleavage. As if someone else is listening in on this forbidden moment, savoring it too.

Let the boys watch.

I’d be happy to show off my skills to my brothers. I love public displays.

I trail my gloved fingers down, the leather cold, but my hand inside pulsing in tandem to the rigid length pressing against my jeans and threatening to pop the zipper.

What did Cav say again? We’re supposed to play with her, are we not? Manipulate, dominate, annihilate this fabricated princess until she’s nothing but a shell of herself, desperate to give us any information we want so we leave her alone?

The Sovereigns didn’t order how we should go about retrieving the Heart. Cav didn’t leave me with any instruction other than to keep my dick in my pants.

A smile tugs against my lips, her lace trim a welcome friction on my mouth as I tug on it with my teeth to expose her tits.

---