Page 38 of The Truths We Burn

“Then it’ll be our dirty little secret,” he breathes against me as his teeth grab at my bottom lip.

I’m giving up, giving in. I can feel my body heating with need, wanting more than his skilled fingers. My throat constricts as his thumb presses into my sensitive bud, lazy circles that make my toes girl.

I press my hands up past his shoulders, holding his neck. “Can you do that, Rook? Can you keep your mouth shut and be my dirty little secret?”

Forcefully, he grabs the back of my head, molding our lips together, sealing this deal for however long it may last.The feeling of his velvet tongue tangling with mine makes me moan. Everything feels hot, like I’m attached to a heater. I scramble to move my mouth at the same pace, matching his hunger.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

You are going to hurt yourself, hurt him. You know there is no light at the end of this tunnel. No way out from underneath your parents’ thumb without them taking Rose.

Except I’m selfish.

I’m so fucking selfish to give in to this, but everything just feels so…

Right.

He forcefully pulls my lips off his, staring at me with a heated glare. His pink lips glisten, making me want more.

“You okay with this?”

And it’s this—this exact reason—why I can’t keep my heart safe from him. The reason I’m not able to separate it from this situation. Sure, I could make this only about sex, but not when he asks me things like that.

How is it that Rook has been the only man to ask me that question? To know by my body how badly I want him but still wants to hear the words.

How he is the villain to everyone else, but not a single man depicted as a hero had asked for permission? Only taking, taking, taking, until there was nothing left of the old Sage.

Rook didn’t realize it, but he is giving those pieces back to me one snarky comment at a time.

“Yes, God, yes,” I whisper without hesitation.

“I always knew there was a darker side to you, Sage, but not wearing panties?” he breathes onto my lips. “Who knew you were such a slut.”

All feminism has apparently left my body, because the way he grunts that crude name makes my thighs shudder with anticipation.

Sexual repression was something I had lived with for so long, but this?

It feels like more of a sexual awakening.

My legs open wider for him to get a better view of just how wet I am.

“I didn’t want lines in my dress,” I offer.

“Mmmhhh,” he hums as he leaves kisses along the valley of my breasts, his tongue sweeping down below the leather fabric—a warning before I feel the sharp bite through the material as he takes one of my pearled nipples into his mouth. “Admit it. You wanted someone to find you in here. All lonely, with nothing covering that pink cunt. You wanted someone to see just how exposed you were. You like it, don’t you?”

The room begins to spin, all my senses completely tethered to him. His hands grope at my ass, using it as leverage to rock his covered length into my center. The delicious friction builds as butterflies swarm my stomach.

God, it’s never felt this good.

Craving more, thirsty for more than foreplay, I drop my hands to his lap. My nimble fingers work on his button and zipper. I ghost past the shadows in his jeans, feeling him, knowing he wants this just as bad as I do, but he’s refusing to help me pull his jeans off, or at least down enough so he is exposed.

“Rook, some help?” I groan, hating how gutted I sound, how needy.

“I’m not doing shit until you tell me what I want to hear.” His mouth continues to assault my neck and chest, the cool air making goosebumps race across my body as it hits the warm places on my throat where his wet tongue had been.

“You want me to tell you—”

“Confess,” he butts in, grabbing a fistful of my hair. “I want you to tell me the truth. You wanted me to find you like this, didn’t you? That you like being my dirty, fucking secret, my dirty slut. Confess all your sins to your very own devil.”

---