Page 84 of Cruel Games

“I guess I’d better hurry up and get you naked, then, huh?”

I’d never heard those words in such an erotic manner before. They’d been bantered to me by frat boys in college and one-night stands at the bars, or the occasional ex-hookup that I kept around just to fuck on demand.

They’d never sounded as good as when Dingo said them in that fucking Australian accent of his.

Men with accents really were dangerous.

He yanked my shorts down over my hips as I rose to accommodate his actions, hating how hot his breath against my panties felt. How wet I was as his fingers trailed back up my legs and spread me wider so he could admire me in the dim glow from the overhead dome light.

“What do you want from me, Ivy?” Dingo asked suddenly, his eyes zeroed in on my pussy as he hooked a finger on the edge and tugged them aside to stare at the wetness he found there.

“I don’t know,” I whispered before I could rethink the words. “Just touch me.”

“That, I can do.”

His fingers speared me without warning, two of them sliding right inside my drenched pussy as I groaned at the stretch, the intrusion, pleased he’d gone for the gold so quickly. We didn’t have time to fool around, and I was well on my way to an orgasm with the way he hooked the tips of his digits and pressed them against my inner walls. All I could do was put my hands on the backrest of the seat on either side of me and raise my hips as he slid that other hand beneath my ass and lifted my hips higher, supporting me as he worked me into a daze.

Within seconds, I was nearly vibrating off the damn cushions. I could taste an impending orgasm; it was so close, but every time I thought I’d grabbed hold of it, or it me, he slowed his movements and dragged me back from the precipice, coolingme off only to stoke my flames again, higher, closer to the edge, toe to toe with taking flight?—

“I wanna be inside you,” he rasped, and without warning, without waiting for my permission or agreement, he’d set me down and was jerking himself out of his pants with a groan.

And suddenly, I wondered if I’d fucked the wrong one in the warehouse.

“Is that?—”

His grin was nothing short of chaotic, endearing in a stray dog kind of way. “You bet, girl,” Dingo teased, wagging his eyebrows suggestively at me. “That gonna be a problem?”

I stared down at his pierced tip and my lips broke into a hesitant smile. “Not unless you make it one.” My brows drew together, though, a hesitation in my thought process as I wondered how exactly that changed sex with a man. “Do you feel it, too, when you . . . ?”

“Youcertainly will,” he promised, and with that, he was at my entrance, pushing into me slowly, and?—

—oh.

Oh.

“That’s new,” I gasped as he rolled his hips, sliding all the way to the hilt inside of me. Those damned ball piercings ran along the inside of me, stimulating me in ways I didn’t think I’d ever experience. It was like a new toy, and fuck all if the only thought I could process right now wasI wonder what this would feel like if it vibrated.

“Feel good?” he asked slowly, his words hissing out between his teeth as he slid back out and hesitated, waiting for me to give him a sign.

“I dunno,” I teased him, tangling my hand in the hair at the base of his neck. “Why don’t you keep going, and I’ll let you know when I decide.”

He didn’t speak another word as his hips got to work in the confined space, his cock driving into me with renewed intent.His size stretched me, pushed my limits, and that fucking piercing was insane inside of me. It felt just the right side of foreign, like trying a new cheese for the first time that’s just a tiny bit sharper than you’re used to, or shortening your skirt an inch or two before you go out clubbing.

Sex was sex to me before this whole situation. I’d never given the act another thought other than scratching an itch. But as he looked down at me, his eyes burning with something I didn’t recognize, my heart and my mind got twisted up in each other, and I found myself wanting to know things I had no business giving a shit about.

Things like his name. His origin story. His dreams he’d had for his life before he fell into this one.

What was Dingo like before he became Dingo? Before he became a Neon Dog?

Was he like me? Did something or someone in his life ruin him, too?

“Where’d you go to, girl?” he asked suddenly, and I realized his thrusts had nearly stopped as he realized I wasn’t as engaged as before. “We can stop if I’m boring you?—”

“No!” I said suddenly, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “I’m . . . I’m here.”

It was a lie, but I could fake it.

Fake it until you make it.

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