Page 186 of Wicked Dreams

I’ve had Ian’s bite mark on my wrist covered with makeup. The scratches on my arm have healed, except for a few deeper gouges that scabbed over.

In another few weeks, I’ll be whole again.

Caleb opens the door, meeting my eyes in the mirror. He’s naked. I drop my dress, letting it fall back down around my thighs.

He comes and stands behind me, touching his mark on my breast. It’s covered by the dress, but he knows exactly where it is. His hand glides down my arm, closing over my bracelet. He wears his on the same arm.

“I’m really fucking glad you decided to wear your own version of a crown.” He kisses my neck.

I tip my head to the side. I guess I didn’t think about that implication. But the more I think about it, the more…I like it.

He peppers kisses down my shoulder, lifting my arm. His lips hover over the bracelet.

“Did you mean it?”

I shake my head. “Did I mean what?”

“That you wanted to marry me. When we were nine.”

“We were eight,” I murmur. “And yes, I did mean it. As much as I could’ve at eight years old.”

Our eyes collide in the mirror again, and this time…

I avoid it. I scoot past him and grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge in the living room. My dress swishes around my legs, and I focus on that when I cross to the windows. We’re high enough that there’s no chance of anyone spying us.

Top floor.

Caleb’s reflection appears behind me again. He takes the water bottle and sets it aside, then uses his foot to widen my stance. Slowly, he bends me forward. I automatically put my hands on the window to keep my balance.

He flips the skirt of my dress up and pushes into me without a word.

I bite my lip, trapping my whimper behind my teeth.

Two can play that game.

There’s always a game between us.

He thrusts faster, stoking something hot between us. His hand reaches around me, and his fingers find my clit again.

It’s sore. Everything is sore.

I bite my lip harder. He can’t win this, too.

I push back to meet his pace. His finger on my clit, rubbing fast little circles, is insistent.

His other hand slides into my hair, keeping my head up. I see us in the reflection, my whole body moving with every slam. And beyond us, a city that couldn’t give a damn. Students filter out below us.

He changes angles, rolling his hips, and I can’t take it anymore. I let out a whimper.

His hand moves from my hair to around my neck. He pulls me so I’m almost upright, then growls and picks up the pace. “So. Fucking. Perfect.”

“I can’t,” I pant.

“Fuck,” he growls, biting my shoulder. “Scream, Margo.”

I do. I tip my head back and scream his name, abandoning all self-control. My legs tremble while the orgasm rolls through me. I squeeze my eyes shut.

He slams into me at a whole new angle, grunting into my neck. He jerks forward, burying himself all the way inside me, and comes with a hiss of breath.

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