Page 39 of Dance with the Devil

He licks them clean. When he’s done, he looks directly into my eyes. “Delicious.”

I can see it in his eyes. He didn’t want to do this before, but after what we just experienced? I don’t think anything could stop what happens next except for me going up on my elbows, bracing my hand against his chest, and telling him ‘no’. I fully believe that. If I changed my mind, it wouldn’t matter what Winter threatens us with. He’d stop and face the consequences after.

Because he won’t force me. He’ll never force me.

And as he eases his body over mine, lodging his cock at my entrance for the first time, I would never forgive him if he decides to go all noble and stop this himself.

It would be his right. I’d understand. But, God, I’d never forgive him.

Luckily, I don’t have to worry about that because, thanks to the way he worked my body already, I’m as relaxed and as ready for him as I can be. He gives his body a quick push, seating himself just inside of me, and then he holds himself up on his arms.

“There might be a pinch, butterfly. But I know you’re going to be perfect. Fuck. You already are. This pussy… I’m already addicted and I’ve only just put the tip in.”

“Give me more,” I say, shocked at how husky and throaty my voice is. Probably because my throat is raw from all those stifled screams… “I want you, Cross. I want all of you.”

“I’ve gotta go slow. Take it easy. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t,” I promise.

He doesn’t seem to believe me. Nothing I can do will convince him otherwise. He takes his time, and, okay, I’m a little bit glad he did when the resistance goes from nothing toeverything. I suck in a breath, about to tell him that maybe I did change my mind—I’m so full, and I don’t think I can take anymore—when, suddenly, there’s that pinch followed by enough pleasure to make it worth it.

“You okay, butterfly?”

“Fucking great,” I breathe out.

He grin. “That’s my girl.”

Cross is right. With his cock stretching me out, Iamhis girl. For tonight, at least, and I’m going to savor that the entire time we have this connection.

I wish it lasted longer than it did. I’m sure Cross thinks the same. His thrusts start out slow, but almost as if he can’t control himself, he picks up the pace until the cot is rocking, I’m sliding on the cheap sheets, and he’s racing toward his own orgasm.

And then it’s done. As quick as it began, over so fast that I’m still humming from when Cross made me come, it’s done?—

“Coming inside of her… not expected, but it was a nice touch.”

—and I suddenly remember why exactly we did what we did.

Oh, fuck.

Winter’s voice slaps me out of my post-nut haze, making everything crystal clear as I realize that I completely forgot to pull out before I started to come.

FOURTEEN

OURS

GENEVIEVE

Iwanted Cross, but not like this.

The second the slight hiss from the loudspeaker dies and doesn’t start up again, Cross decides that we’ve done enough to ‘satisfy’ our creepy, voyeuristic captor. Without even meeting my eyes, he climbs off of the bed—off ofme—and pads his way over to the sink, pausing only to snag his shirt.

He tears the sleeve right off, then inspects it for a moment as if it’s the most fascinating bit of fabric he’s ever seen. His face it still closed-off, his sweat-slicked hair sticking to his forehead, as he takes the sleeve over the sink and rinses it with water until it’s mostly soaked.

Cross brings it over to me, muttering, “It’s as clean as it can be.”

“What do you need that for?”

“This? Oh. It’s not for me, Genevieve.”

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