Page 59 of Wicked Court

His other hand, cool but unsteady, as if he too fights an inner battle, glides down the valley of my breasts.

I should feel repulsed and terrified by this carnal interrogation, yet there is something about the way he worships my body that stirs a dangerous longing within me. Is it the artistry in his touch or the enigma of his cloak and mask that draws such forbidden pleasure from this unknown layer of myself?

What did Sasha say? Have you ever slept with a guy in a mask?

I get it now. I so get it.

“You want me to stretch out our time together, don’t you?” he says, almost musically with his altered voice.

“Tell me about the Vultures, then,” he demands, pressing down on my clit while pinching hard on one nipple with a possessiveness that sets every nerve ending alight. “What did they want with you? And why would you consort with them over us?”

I gasp, arching as much as I can. “I don’t—I don’t know them,” I stammer, the truth pouring from my lips like liquid metal. “Tempest approached me first.”

“Tempest,” he repeats, the name rolling off his tongue like a curse.

There is a history there, a storm beneath the calm of his voice that speaks volumes of the Court’s enmity toward the Vultures.

Yet, even as his hands map my skin, painting my territory with my own juices, I am acutely aware of the power he wields—not just over my body, but over the secrets that pulse beneath my flesh, waiting to be unlocked by someone as skilled as Cavanaugh Nightshade.

I’m helpless to stop the whimpers that follow. The heat between us crackles like a roaring fire, consuming all reason and restraint. The dungeon’s chill is a distant memory now.

“Elara,” his voice is a dark melody, distorted by the mask and whatever he’s using to disguise his voice, yet it vibrates with an unmistakable authority that resonates deep within my core. “The ruby Heart—what do you know of it?”

My mind races, but the pleasure he invokes muddies my thoughts. “Sarah Anderton, it’s related to her. It’s related to Sarah Anderton," I pant out, the truth serving as a fragile defense against his sensual onslaught, as my mind races and the pleasure he evokes muddles my thoughts.

“Good girl,” he soothes, even as he re-situates himself between my legs, bends down, and presses the mouth of his mask against my pussy.

I can feel the moisture between my legs coating the cool, hard planes. Feel his exhale against my sensitive clit.

He moves his head up and down, creating friction between me and his mask.

The way he’s rubbing me—so rough yet so restrained—makes me want to beg him for more even as I try to hold on to my defenses.

“Where is it?” he demands against my pussy, those two black holes staring at me over my pubic bone.

I whimper in response, unable to form any coherent words as he thrusts his fingers inside of me, stretching me wider than I thought possible, hitting that spot that has me crying out in pure bliss.

He grunts low in his throat, taking pleasure from my reaction even as he manipulates my body for his needs.

The sound of my leather restraints creaking reverberates against my cries. I’m helpless to stop both.

And then, I hear it—the sharp intake of breath, the rustle of fabric against skin.

Cav, the unyielding Court member, pleases himself, driven to the brink by the sight of me laid bare before him.

It’s obscene, the sound of his self-indulgence mingling with my moans, and yet it is achingly erotic.

“I don’t want to tell you,” I whisper in stutters, my voice breaking on the word, a plea for mercy or perhaps for more. It’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

“If not us, then who?” he presses, his movements relentless. “Who tempts you away from me, butterfly?”

“Nobody,” I breathe, lost in the labyrinth of sensation he creates. “There’s only you here, only this.”

A growl rumbles from behind the porcelain façade, a sound of animalistic satisfaction that makes me respond in kind.

I hear him cum, throaty with release, his upper body sagging as he spills all over the floor.

Then a vicious, resounding, “Fuck,” before he pulls his fingers out of me and storms out.

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