Page 88 of The Devil's Pawn

He breaks our kiss and slides down my body, and when I open my eyes and meet his, I draw in a breath. The lust and naked desire in his amber irises almost make me come with no direct stimulation.

“Let’s see, now, shall we?” He hums against my pussy, kissing me there, tonguing methere.

I raise my pelvis, greedy for more. Shivers rack my body, a soft moan falling from my lips. He plants a large hand on my abdomen, pushing me flat to the mattress.

“Still, or I’ll strap down your lower half, too.”

Splaying me open with his thumbs, he licks and nips at me, and with every swipe of his tongue, my body sings. A swell starts in my belly, but it’s not like last time he made me come. It’s different, bigger.More.He hums again, circling my clit with his tongue.

“Alexander… I… I… oh, God.” My entire body tenses, then relaxes, and something gushes out of me. Whatever it is soaks him and the bedsheets.

Oh, no… Oh, God, please no. Did I…? Did I just… pee myself?

If I thought I was embarrassed before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now. I tug on my restraints.

“Let me go. Please. Untie me.”

I can’t look at him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to face him again. My original plan is back on, except this time it’s nothing to do with feeling trapped in a marriage I didn’t ask for, and everything to do with the fact I peed on a De Vil, and not just any De Vil. Alexander. My husband.

Is what I did a hanging offense in their circles? Probably.

“—okay. Imogen? Can you hear me? It’s okay. You’re okay.”

I shake my head, pulling on my restraints again. Except my arms are free. He must have untied me. I need out of here. I need space. Privacy. Time alone to come to terms with how mortified I am. But when I try to move, I can’t. A man mountain is pinning me down.

“Let me go.” I shove at his chest, but it’s like trying tomove granite. “Please.” I hiccup, and only then do I realize I have tears streaming down my face.

“Shh.”

As though I weigh nothing more than a feather, he lifts me into his lap, holding me tightly enough that I can’t escape, but not so tight that I feel trapped. He strokes my hair and rocks me like I’m a baby. Given I peed myself, I may as well be.

I bury my face in his neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what? For squirting? Don’t apologize for that. You rocked my fucking world.”

Squirting?I risk a quick peek at him. He’s smiling wide enough to split his face apart.

“What’s that?”

“It’s when a female ejaculates.”

If I thought I’d reached the pinnacle of embarrassment, Alexander proved me wrong. My face gets so hot, you could fry an egg on my cheeks.

“Hey.” He kisses my forehead. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s… Jesus, Imogen. For the man, it’s a hell of a turn on.”

“It is?”

“Yes. It is.”

I tuck my chin into my chest. “I thought I’d peed on you.”

He lets out that laugh again. It’s animated and heartfelt, and I can’t get enough. “You didn’t pee on me. And even if you had, I wouldn’t care.”

“You wouldn’t care if I peed on you?”

“No.” He presses his lips to mine, and I throw my arms around him, refusing to let go, urging him to kiss me harder, deeper. A groan rumbles through his chest, and he shifts meuntil I’m astride him. The bulge in his jeans presses against my clit. It wouldn’t take much for me to come again.

Gripping the hem of his shirt, he pulls it over his head and tosses it behind him.

---