Page 67 of Queen Of WildCards

Needsthat were the only thingIhad to hold onto at this point.Theonly thingIcould control the outcome of.

Withone click,Iwas in the archives—the place where all my appointments were stored, where all the calls and videos went, just in case we ever needed to look one up again.Theystayed there for six months to a year—usually, the only people who ever needed the recordings were a future therapist or the cops.

WhatIwas about to do . . . well,Idon't think it was something that had ever happened or would ever happen again.

Ididn't bother to go hunting for the toysIknew were somewhere in my bag.Ididn't want to move, andIwas already comfortable in the center of his bed, leaning propped up against his headboard, a stack of pillows at my back.

Iclicked 'open' and held my breath, waiting for the video to start.

Themoment his voice echoed from the speakers, my face flushed, andIstarted second-guessing everything.Butmy conscience and my body were two separate entities, andIwatched as the mouse crept over to the 'loop' button and turned it on.

Myeyes were glued to the screen as he flashed up in the recording, staring at me with that disheveled head of blonde hair, those 'fuck me' eyes, and the upturned lips that beckoned me to forget why this was twenty kinds of wrong.

"Saymy name," he moaned, andIknew in the part of his videoIcouldn't see his hand was on that cock of his, tugging to the sound of his legal name on my lips.

"Cass,"Iechoed along with recording me, my hand slipping to my lap, between my thighs, probing the wetnessIfound there.Icould lie to his face for days, weeks, months, and tell himIwasn't attracted to him, thatIdidn't get wet every time he fucking touched me, but something about that devil-may-care attitude and those kissable lips, and the long, slender fingers that caressed so gently when he wanted to taunt me with the truthIdenied, held me in thrall.

Myhead fell back asIrubbed along my slick folds, up and down, his lips against my throat burned into the memoriesI'dnever tell a soul about.Islipped a finger, then two, inside myself, hips arching, soft moans matching the wet squelching noise filling the air.

"Cass,"Iwhispered as the video looped again, asIspread my legs apart, asIadded a third finger and the laptop fell between my parted knees, asJokerstared straight at me whileIfinger-fucked myself into oblivion. "Cass,yes—"

Myfree hand gripped the headboard behind me, andIbit back a plea for that bastard as my orgasm washed over me, hard, fast, and unforgiving, ripping me apart and refusing to let me piece myself back together untilIaccepted defeat.

Asthe peak hit me and took me over the edge completely,Ichoked on my scream of pleasure and nearly cracked the wood beneath my fingers.Myhips lifted off the bed, my back arched like a bowstring, and my legs tremored.

Mylips parted on a gasp just as the door swung open andJokerhimself walked in with a dangerous glint in his eyes and a knowing, victorious smirk on those kissable lips, swinging his keys from an outstretched finger.

"My, my, my, someone's been a naughty girl."Iscrambled to grab the laptop, butIcouldn't get to it fast enough, and his brows rose as our conversation looped again and his voice played back to him.

"Isthis whatIthink it is, beautiful?Areyou fucking yourself to my voice asIjerked off to yours all those days ago?"Heshoved my laptop off the bed and crawled between my legs beforeIcould even bother to close them, gripping my ankles to keep me from running away. "Youknow, if you wanted the real thing, all you had to do was ask."

I'dtaken the edge off the needSpadeleft me with, but it was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, a violent, writhing thing that demandedItake my pleasure from this eager man, even thoughIwas still salty over the fucking clothes.

Jealousof women who'd spent far less time in his bed.Aman who possessed me only because he stole me from myself.Andnow, broken and disheartened, still desperately horny, and feeling a little like discarded trash thanks to the quick internet search for myself,Igave in.

Igave the fuck up and let him hold my ankles in his long-fingered grip, let him stare longingly at my very bare body, vulnerable and exposed and weak and—

"Fuckme,Cass,"Iwhispered, needing to feelsomething.Anything.

Hiseyes met mine, curiosity and confusion in their depths, but thankfully he didn't voice those emotions, those questionsIcould see roiling in their depths.Hesimply did asIdemanded, like the golden retriever he was at heart, andIlet go as his fingers trailed up my calves, drawing little teasing circles against my skin.

Myeyes drifted closed as the sensation of his hands on my body lulled me into a false sense of calm, everything else fading away, disappearing down into the pit whereIthrew all the thingsIdidn't want to think about, whereIlocked away thingsIcouldn't bring myself to deal with.Hisfingers were allIcould feel as they rounded the back of my knees, barely brushing against that sensitive part of me that rarely saw daylight.

Fuck, if he just kept touching me all night,Icould probably drift off into ignorant bliss.

Butthen he trailed those fingers back down and lifted my left leg at the ankle, resting it on his shoulder as his head turned, curls brushing softly against me while his lips pressed against the skin there.Theymoved up the inside of my leg, kiss after kiss, sometimes gentle, like a feather, sometimes more insistent, like he struggled to contain his desire to taste me.

BeforeIknew what had hit me, his hands were on my thighs, and his lips had left me as he settled in for a fucking feast between my spread legs.

"Fuck, beautiful, if you were the fruit of that forbidden tree,Iwould have been cast out ofEdenon day one."

Mylips parted with a gasp as his aquiline nose brushed against the smattering of hair covering the target of his affections.Myhands still gripped the headboard, but one loosed itself and tangled willingly in those golden tresses that hid his face from view.WhenIpushed the hair from his face and knotted it atop his head, his eyes flicked up to meet mine, those questions stirring in their depths again.

"Tellme you want this, gorgeous," he breathed, the hot words fanning over my mound and sending tingles down my spine. "Tellme you wantme."

Andthere it was, the connectionIwasn't looking for.Theneed that stirred inside me also rose unbidden in him.Notonly a need to fuck away our feelings, but a need tobelong.Tobewanted.Tobemissed.

Hewanted to be worth something, and so didI, and the fact thatIfound a kindred soul in him whenIshould be running in the other direction scared me more thanIcared to admit—more thanIwanted to eventhinkabout.

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