Page 122 of Shattered Jewel

“Witness,” he intones, the voice igniting invisible fuses along my skin. “Every. Delicious. Moment.”

My lungs forget their rhythm, stumbling over the simple act of breathing. His voice carries a hint of the familiar... Wilder’s signature undertones.

His hand closes around mine, stopping it mid-descent from my chest. His touch is warm, but arctic in its threat.

I’m not to move. Not to question. Only to watch.

Without a word, he guides my hand from my chest to his own, placing it over his robe-draped heart. It pounds hard and steady beneath my touch, as if in sync with the crazy tempo of my own.

My face betrays me, warming visibly when our eyes meet. That eternally ravenous stare ... it’s definitely Wilder. I know it well, even through the mask.

With his endless gaze never leaving mine, he shrugs aside his robe to reveal a lean body covered in a thin sheen of perspiration. I take in his chiseled chest and shoulders, his abs twitching deliciously under his golden skin and follow the gorgeous lines of his body to the end of his hand, where he beckons me to rise.

Mutely, I do, my sweaty plastic mask pressing into my cheeks as I incline my head in a compliant gesture. He takes my seat, then guides me onto his lap where I can feel all of him—every twitch, every groan in his chest.

“Nothing can happen to you tonight,” he says. “You have to blend in, so I’ll hide you in plain sight. If I have to be inside you to do that, then that’s what I’ll do. You can watch, like Cav wants, but I want to watch you come undone.”

Wilder’s hand slides over mine, his touch electrifying, my pulse to beating in my body like the music’s bass. Wordlessly, he guides my hand back under my robe, his fingers resting lightly atop mine.

He moves one of my fingers under my panties and into the slit of my pussy, sliding both his and mine in.

My breathing falters, then accelerates, the sound muffled by my mask as his finger traces mine, exploring the wet heat of my arousal. My hips grind against him, ridden with an immediate request for more. A sound like distant thunder emanates from deep within him.

He hardens beneath me, an exhilarating reminder of what I do to him. Wilder’s hold on my waist tightens, and despite everything—despite the carnal energy around us and the nearby perils—nothing feels more real than Wilder’s touch.

Count, damn you. I have to keep a headcount.

The steely length of him presses against my backside after I find the twelfth initiate and a needy whimper escapes my lips.

His thumb finds my clit, circling it in rhythm with our fingers thrusting inside me. My hips buck, pushing against him to better feel him.

“Watch them have their fun,” he murmurs in my ear. “Because the only dicks you’ll ever feel will be ours. Your pussy is ours. Your mind is ours. Your soul will taste like our cum because we will never be done with you.”

Yes, count. Must not stop counting…

I suck in a breath that tastes of shock and anticipation, gripping the arms of the chair for support as he takes his time. His thumb and mine circles my clit, teasing and tormenting.

He’s my pulling my strings, commanding my fingers, edging me closer, making me feel how soaked I am, how hot and silky I feel inside.

Whimpering, I arch my back to give him better access.

He pushes more of our fingers inside me, stretching me wider. I gasp when he hits that spot deep within me that makes my toes curl.

“Fuck, Wilder,” I moan.

His amusement manifests as a sound that raises the hairs on my neck while his free hand digs into my pants’ hem at my hip, pushing down my jeans until my ass is bared under the robe, then guides me to the tip of his erection.

He’s thick, and my body welcomes the intrusion. I open to him easily. Wilder’s cock fills me up perfectly, each thrust forcing me to breathe through my nose lest I scream. Sensation spirals outward, a dizzying vortex of pure feeling.

His mask leans close to my ear, and a husky whisper breaks through the wanton symphony around us. “Watch them, Elara,” he commands, “Keep counting them while they fuck. We fuck.”

Despite the building heat inside me, I force my eyes to stay open and sweep across the room again.

“One…” The syllable scrapes past my vocal cords.

Wilder’s fingers continue their torturous dance, inside and around our joined sex.

“Two…”

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