Page 84 of Ramsay

My clit throbs, and I writhe against the desk, seeking the friction I need so badly. But he moves away with a smirk, and I whimper, raising my gaze.

“Mm,” he rumbles, and I comply when he pushes me gently onto my back and pulls my pants and panties off before spreading my knees wide.

His eyes flare as he stares at my core, wet and aching before he runs his nose down my folds and inhales with a groan.

“Oh,” I moan when he flicks his tongue inside and with the next breath I’m shouting and bucking into him, grabbing his hair in my fists.

“You want me to fuck this pussy, love?” he asks, his pupils blown.

“Yes,” I rasp, breathlessly.

All self-respect flew out the window when he licked me up and down like an ice cream cone before suckling my clit into his mouth.

I writhe beneath him, my pleasure dropping onto his tongue in waves, and before I’m truly ready, I’m sailing over the edge, crying out my pleasure with no care for who might overhear us.

I’m still pulsing when Ramsay slides into me smoothly, the stretch snug around my pulsing core and we both groan in unison. I watch with greedy eyes as he stares with naked intensity at where we are joined. I think it's the most emotion I've ever seen on his icy face.

Slowly, he maneuvers inside, my walls stretching to accommodate his thick girth as he bottoms out. His lips pull back in a grimace and he closes his eyes when his balls tap my ass.

In the next moment, they flash back open, and he watches me closely as he pulls out and fucks into me rapidly. My own eyes roll back, and I arch into him when he lifts my ass and thrusts into me for all he’s worth.

He’s rubbing against places I didn't know existed and immediately I jump back to throbbing, my clit waving like a fucking flag.

Grunting, he bucks into me, twisting and turning until he hits me just right, and I cry out, my head falling back in ecstasy.

“You’re tight as fuck, love,” he says through gritted teeth.

My skin burns and tingles surge in my core before I squeeze my eyes shut and moan, convulsing painfully around him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, surging into me until he’s bottomed out and it’s just us panting harshly, while he jerks inside of me.

I’m afraid to open my eyes, to break the peace. But eventually, I have no choice and flip them open when he shifts inside of me.

He’s gazing at me with an expression I cannot define, but as soon as I meet his eyes, he pulls from me slowly, wincing at the sensitive slide. Once he’s free, I sit up and hop down, grabbing my clothes and pulling them on quickly.

I have the desperate need to be covered before he ruins the moment, which is a shame because it was so fucking sexy. The euphoria of my orgasm slowly fades as I adjust my sweater with shaking hands while he stands quietly before me, now buttoned, and zipped up, back to the icy wall I’m used to.

“Now then, what did you come by for? Hm? I’m sure it wasn't for a good dicking, although I’m not complaining,” he says with a smirk.

Ignoring him and the sting of annoyance dancing across my skin, I search my fucking brain for why I came because, yeah, I’m still coming down from my high and it rankles he’s so calm. I guess I didn't blow his fucking world.

Sighing, I say, “It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have come.”

He stops me when I try to walk by, grabbing my arm and tugging me toward him. I fall into his chest and meet his eyes. To my dismay, I shiver when he brushes a strand of hair from my face and says, “Tell me.”

Shit.

I look away but finally spill because I’m fucking scared, and some part of me craves the comfort I want him to give, which is fucking foolish, but I’m not exactly someone to make good choices. Besides, maybe he’ll admit it's him, and I can walk away knowing he’s truly evil, but I’m not on the radar of a creepy ass killer.

“I came to ask if this is from you,” I say quietly, pulling the rabbit's foot from my pocket, and holding it out to him.

The neon blue color is so at odds with the fake fur of the simulated foot that it would be creepy even if it hadn’t been left behind by a sadistic fuck.

Ramsay stares at it before he grabs it out of my palm and says, “Where did you get this?”

Searching his face, my stomach sinks because he’s not smug, or gloating and unless he’s fucking pretending, which why would he if it’s all to get to me, then he doesn't know. Fuck.

“My car,” I say softly.

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