Page 117 of Cruel Games

She sank to her knees in the cold spray of the shower, eye level with my dick now, and licked her lips.

The groan that left me was damn near pathetic.

“Ivy—”

“Shut up and enjoy it,” she commanded, her eyes flitting up to stare me into compliance.

I ran a hand through my hair and swallowed the rest of the hesitation building in me, a part of myself hating the eagerness with which I abandoned what I knew was right in favor of this experience I’d never had before.

She wrapped her hands around it again and stroked it a few times, using the cold runoff to smooth the way and aid her strokes. It took everything in me not to buck into her grip.

And then she giggled and slipped her tongue over the head of my shaft, and I nearly put a hole through the wall.

When her talented tongue swirled around that sensitive head, I thought I was ready for whatever she could give me.

I had never been so wrong in my entire life.

She sucked me into her mouth, her lips wrapping tenderly around my shaft as she moved her hands down toward the base and used one to cup my balls. Her fingernails scratched lightly behind them, and I whimpered like a fucking dog, slamming my head back against the glass shower door as I swore.

Whatever the fuck she was doing now was like sucking the soul from my body through my damneddick.And heavens, but if she stopped, I might lose my mind.

Too soon, though, I felt the familiar sensation of impending orgasm and yanked her off my cock by her hair, immediately regretting the little yelp of pain she let out at the motion.

And then, without a single word, she put her mouth back on me and sucked me dry.

I had never come so hard in my life as I did down her throat. It felt wrong, like I was using her, even though it was she who made the moves, who insisted on taking my seed down her throat like she might die without it. I did none of this, but . . .

It still felt wrong.

I turned the water off and lifted her into my arms. As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, I carried her out of the bathroom and into my bedroom—my den.

I bypassed the towels, the robes, and the warmth of the enclosed space and dropped her straight on my bed, staring down at her naked figure like she was a sculpture made of ice that might melt into oblivion.

She looked up at me and smiled, tears shining in her eyes.This broken girl was trying so hard to be strong, and the weight of her whole situation fell on me like a ton of bricks.

If she’d been carrying this her whole life, it was no wonder she turned out as jaded as she did.

I crawled up the bed to lay next to her and pulled her into my arms, tugging the blanket over us despite her protests of dampness, cold, and whatever else she was mumbling into my chest. My only goal now was to shield her from the chilly air and give her somewhere safe to hide for a little while.

“Sleep,” I murmured, tucking her head under the blankets as she protested and pushed them back down to her chin.

“What if I don’t want to sleep?”

I sighed. Even now, she fought to keep the upper hand, afraid if she turned over what little power she had, someone would abuse it, abuse her.

“I’ll keep you safe,” I said instead of the thousands of words I wanted to rush out with. I had so much I wanted to say, so much she needed to hear, to know, but now wasn’t the time. Instead, I nudged a knee between her legs, pulling her against me so she could rest her head in the bend of my elbow as we faced each other in the center of my bed.

A place I never wanted her to leave.

“Are you going to fuck me?”

“No,” I said simply, tucking her head under my chin. “Not now.”

“Why?”

“Sleep,” I said instead of answering her question, eager for her to shut up for once. “We can talk later.”

“Youneverwant to talk.”

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