Page 18 of Wicked Games

He really is royalty.

His thumb brushes along the underside of my jaw. Small movements that he might not even be aware of. His touch brings out goosebumps.

I close my eyes until everyone is gone, and we’re entombed in silence. He’s everywhere. In my past, my present. His scent inmy nose. His voice in my ear. His hand at my throat, capturing every beat of my heart.

“You will break for me, little lamb,” he whispers in my ear. “This is just the beginning.”

I shudder. “Why?”

“You and I…”

I open my eyes. His gaze sears into me.

And his thumb still traces a pattern, back and forth on my jaw.

Games and more games. My head hurts. My lungs ache.

“You’re mine, Margo. Forever. And you’ll break for me—don’t think that you won’t.”

This is just the beginning.

“I won’t,” I swear.

He leans down to kiss me. I press my lips together and turn my head to the side, exhaling through my nose when his lips land on my cheek. But he doesn’t stop. His lips travel over my cheekbones, touching my eyelid, then my forehead.

And his hand tightens on my throat. White spots explode in front of my eyes.

A soft whimper escapes me.

“Kiss me.”

I keep my head turned away.

“You bastard,” I choke out. Fear winds through my chest. It’ll make me do anything—including give in to Caleb. And that’s just…not an option.

“What do I have to do to prove that you’re mine?” he asks.

He tugs my pants down in one swift motion. He spreads my legs with his knee, and then he thrusts his finger into me.

I cry out, but the sound is strangled.I’mstrangled. I push him, but he doesn’t budge. It’d be easier to move a boulder.

“Wet.” The word is an admonishment. “Kiss me, Margo, and I’ll leave you alone. For the night anyway.”

Tears run down my face. I hate that I want him to keep touching me. That my hips move forward the slightest bit when his nail scrapes my clit. His fingers plunge back into me, stroking a spot deep inside me.

He kisses my cheek, his tongue darting out and catching my misery.

“You fucking love this,” he says. “Don’t pretend otherwise. Don’t pretend that you don’t wish it was my dick inside you. Maybe next time, I won’t send them away. They’ll get a live show?—”

I grab his face and pull him to me. Our lips are magnets.

Better make it a good one.

I taste my own tears as I part our lips, sliding my tongue along his. He takes over, slamming me back. My head thumps against the wall. His teeth tear at my lower lip.

He’s still toying with my clit, alternating between rubbing and pinching.

That, the kiss, his hand at my throat…

---