Page 14 of Bleeding Outside the Lines

“You smell like death,” I whisper, my lips grazing her ear.

“Your favorite, I presume,” she croaks out.

I pull back to see her face and remove my hand from her throat. She remains still, her eyes penetrating mine. She cocks her head, curiosity falling over her features.

“Why did you call out my name?” she asks softly. She looks so confused and so innocent that it takes me a few seconds to collect myself.

I place my hands on the wall on either side of her, and her breath quickens.

“I knew you’d enjoy it,” I answer, and watch as a blush creeps into her cheeks. “Tell me Ruby. Did you touch yourself after?”

“Do not flatter yourself.”

“You wanted to. Just like you want me to touch you now.”

Her sharp intake of breath is her only tell and had I not been inches from her lips, I would have never heard it.

Game fucking on.

eight

Cassius flips his baseballhat around and a soft moan escapes my lips. I can’t help it. Full and hungry, he presses his lips to my own. I allow his tongue entry, but he only teases, pulling away to taste my lips again. He does this over and over, until I can’t help but want to touch him. I reach for him, desperate to feel him beneath my fingers, to glide them over his body, but his hands encircle my wrists, bringing them above my head.

“You may be the queen, but this,” he hisses, “is my fucking kingdom. You are not in charge here.”

My breath hitches, on the verge of explosion, and all he’s done is kiss me. I need more. I arch my back, silently pleading with him.

With one hand holding my wrists, he uses the other to lift the skirt of my dress. His fingers trail lightly over my panties, teasing with a breath-like touch. He slides my panties to one side and slides one finger between my folds, navigating to my clit before retreating again.

“Tell me what you want, Ruby.”

The answer should be a simple one, but it is not. It is a trick question because the things I want most are things I can’t have.

All I can do is nod.

Cassius pulls his hand out from between my legs, his eyes clouded with lust.

He licks the pad of his thumb and swipes at a spot beneath my eye. He holds it in front of my face, so I can see the spot of blood that coats it.

“You missed a spot,” he says at the same time his hand returns to my panties.

He doesn’t waste any more time teasing me. He applies light pressure with his thumb and then flicks softly. When I let out a barely audible moan, he rubs harder. His fingers glide through my wetness as he works my clit. His eyes hold mine, and he pushes a finger inside me.

Then two, working them in and out of me. I have to close my eyes and I try to catch my breath, but the feeling is so intense that I feel as if I will burst.

Twisting my body, I fight against his hand holding my wrists. The restraint is almost too much, the need to touch him, to run my fingers through his hair, to scratch at him, to feel his length in my hands. It eats at me. I open my eyes, he smiles, a dimple popping up on one side, and a shiver runs through me. Fuck, he’s a masterpiece. A picture-perfect specimen sent from the devil himself to torture me. He increases the pressure on my clit and my legs start to shake. I squirm, trying to pull away, but too easily he reads my motives. His body presses against mine, trapping his hand between my legs.

“Let go, Ruby. I got you.” He abandons my pussy, his focus solely on my clit, and I moan appreciatively.

His lips form a knowing smile as he increases the intensity. This time I will not hold back. My legs shake, and I lose thestrength to stand. My breath catches in my throat. The orgasm that rips through me overflows. It spills over my edges; it splashes down my legs.

Cassius pulls his hand from beneath my skirt and takes a step back, looking down at the small puddle on the pavement. He licks his lips and releases me. Using both hands, he rubs at the red areas on my wrists, raw from his grip.

Then he lifts his hands above my head and jerks them to one side, his eyes pulled together in concentration.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Fixing your crown.” He flashes a smile. “It was a little crooked.”

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