Page 73 of Wicked Little Secret

But as I begin stroking into Nyssa Oliver, I know there’s no going back. Nor would I ever choose to.

This obsessive, twisted, forbidden union between us is worth the world. It’s worth every fucking thing on this planet.

Nyssa moans as I pump into her. She arches her back and takes my cock. Her pussy gushes with wetness, so slippery that I’m covered in her juices every time I withdraw. The sight of my length slick with evidence of her arousal makes me harder.

If possible.

I grip her flesh and deepen my strokes. I hit the back of her pussy, bottoming out, to more of her screams. The bench sways under us as I do.

As we surrender to how good we make each other feel.

The moment blurs into skin slapping and shared moans. Nyssa spreads her thighs wide as my cock tunnels deep and we ride to the finish line on the same wave of pleasure. It slams into us in a burst of tingling heat.

Seizing up, I’m spilling inside her. I come until we’ve made a mess of each other. I’m coated with her juices and she’s leaking mine.

But it’s not the end of the night—we clean ourselves up as best as we can in the dark of the museum and wander toward what exit we can find.

We’re silent yet aware of where we’re headed. Nyssa slides into the passenger seat of my BMW and I drive us to her apartment. The building’s quiet as we ride the elevator up to the fourth floor and she digs inside her bag for her keys.

The second the door’s unlocked, we’re stepping inside and then slamming it shut.

We’re colliding all over again.

Clothes are stripped away. Kisses are exchanged in the dark.

We fumble through the cramped space, unable to keep our hands off each other.

I press her up against the cold glass of her living room window and slam into her from behind. My hand snakes up her throat, my mouth grazing the edge of her jaw, and I fuck her like I’ve fantasized about fucking her so many recent nights.

The second round of what becomes an on-and-off game through the night.

Nyssa gyrates with me, writhing and whimpering, taking every inch of cock I give her. And when I bury myself inside her to come and kiss her hard on the lips, I know she finally understands.

She knows she’s mine. She knows that no matter how wrong this is, there’s no escaping what’s between us…

16

NYSSA

BAD INTENTIONS - NIYKEE HEATON FEATURING MIGOS AND OG PARKER

“You havea scar on the inside of your thigh,” Professor Adler says, tracing his fingers along the mark. His dark eyes sweep up to meet mine. “It’s shaped like a banana.”

The sound that tumbles out of me is half laugh, half snort. “A what?!”

“You heard me. A banana. I’d say a lightning bolt… but that’s cliché.”

“A lightning bolt and a banana areverydifferent in shape, Professor.”

“Don’t,” he says, climbing up the length of my body. He drops a kiss flush on my lips, then peers down at me, his unruly hair hanging over his brow. “Don’t call me professor when we’re like this.”

“Like what?”

It seems like I’m teasing, being difficult, but it’s a relevant question. Given what happened last night—all night long—we’re treading new water.

We’ve hardly had time to sleep let alone discuss what it is we’re even doing.

“When we’re in bed,” he answers, kissing me again. More softly.

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