Page 67 of All Hallows Game

I dug my fingernails into his skin, trembling, gasping. He wasn’t dead. His scent of ivories and snow filled my airways with every broken breath until my soul began to settle. She didn’t get to him. He was right here, safe, unhurt. “I need…”

This wasn’t close enough. I needed to crawl inside his skin and wrap myself around his soul.

“I know,” he agreed, kisses framing the side of my face, following the path of my tears. “I need you to take your jeans off, my universe.”

It physically hurt to prise my arms from around him, but I couldn’t think about anything but getting him close, getting him inside me where nothing could ever separate us. I yanked the button on my jeans through the hole and almost tore off the zip in my haste to undress, throwing the denim down the stairs and sitting astride Miz where he’d already whisked his trousers into shadows, his cock red and swollen, demanding my attention.

My fingers wrapped around his dick, thumb stroking the crooked path of a vein as I brought him to my entrance, not caring that I wasn’t ready.

“Cat,” he murmured, gold eyes intent on my face, worry turning to heavy-eyed pleasure as I let gravity sink me all the way down his length. “God. Come here.”

A deep sigh punched from my lungs as he brought me into the safety of his arms, my chest flush to his, his scent intensifying in my lungs as I soaked up the warmth and solidness of him. Alive. Unhurt. Finally mine again. His head dropped to my shoulder, nose skimming the side of my throat as he inhaled deep breaths.

“I missed you,” I blurted at the same time he said, “I hate life without you in it, Cat.”

I squeezed his shoulders, pressing him closer to me, beginning to roll my hips in slow, shallow circles. Feeling him inside me satisfied the sharp, slicing need to have him closer, and I sighed, trailing my fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair.

“Let’s never break up again,” I said, another sigh punching from my lungs as his hands explored my back in broad, warm strokes, the touch soothing my starved body. “No matter what, no matter who tries to come between us.”

“No matter what?” He spoke the words against my throat, following them with a kiss.

“No matter what,” I agreed, pressing my fingertips into the back of his neck in firm circles, eliciting a groan from him.

“Even if—”

I tightened my inner muscles around his cock, gripping him on the next roll of my hips, and a grunt came from deep in his chest. “Even if,” I agreed, smothering a smile—until the gentle hands that swept down my spine grabbed my ass, fingernails pressing into soft skin. I clenched hard around him, drenching his cock with arousal.

“Even if I fuck you so hard you lose your voice from screaming?” he asked, teeth scraping down my throat.

“Yes,” I breathed, the smirk falling off my face, my heartbeat heavier, deeper.

He used his grip on my ass to grind me down on his cock, adjusting the angle until my breath caught then abusing that weak spot over and over.

“Miz,” I breathed, complained, praised. I carded my fingers through his hair and made a fist at the base of his neck, unprepared for how fucking sexy his response would be. A shiver made him tremble against me, his face tilting up automatically, eyes sensual and soft, his pretty mouth parted. I gave an experimental tug and he moaned, his cock throbbing inside me. I clenched around him in answer, circling my hips with more need.

“You wanna fight for control, my universe?” he rasped, his eyelids lazy and low. “You won’t win.”

The smirk returned to my face in a slow smile. “I’m a Wallison. I always win.”

He groaned. “Sexy little seductress. I can’t wait to see you submit.”

“You wish,” I taunted, even if the idea of submitting to him made my whole body ache.

Misery’s laugh was a thing of menacing beauty. I felt goosebumps all the way from the back of my neck to the base of my spine where he gripped my ass, grinding his cock into my weak spot, making it hard to remember why I wasn’t instantly giving in.

But I needed this, needed the distraction from all the things crowding my head, from the blind panic of finding his name on that box, and I was curious—what would Miz do when provoked? He melted my damn mind before, and that was when he was trying to soothe my guilt. What could this man do when he wasn’t driven by kindness or compassion? What was Miz like when he let his darkness out to play?

“You’re gonna regret your attitude, my universe. If you play this game with me, you won’t be able to sit or walk without thinking about me for a week.” He paused, tilting his head as he considered me. “Maybe for weeks.”

I snorted, squeezing the hair in my fist, watching its enthralling effect on him—eyes at half-mast, the flush crawling down his neck, face slack with pleasure. With submission. “You think far too highly of yourself, Misery. I’m the one who’s going to make you submit.”

The lazy pleasure in his eyes sharpened immediately, and I squirmed, my pussy drenching his cock. I hadn’t moved my hips in minutes, and I knew it must be driving him insane because it had the same effect on me.

The spank came without warning, crashing through the soft skin of my ass like a flash of heat followed my sharp, biting pain. My eyes shot wide, a cry on my lips as my eyes watered. He hadn’t held back, hadn’t started gently.

My whole body electrified.

“Poor little Prick,” he taunted, a conceited smirk on his face that made my stomach tangle. “Deluding herself that she’s in charge.”

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