Page 266 of Rage

Josephine peered into those blue eyes for only a moment before leaning forward, close enough that their noses brushed, and kissed her. It was soft with a touch of yearning, deepened only when Scarlett wrapped her arms around Josephine’s neck, felt the tension there in her shoulders when hands went guiding along the valleys of her back.

Lust flared to life in the cover of darkness. Scarlett had done this a thousand times with men who bathed her in gold jewels and promised her riches. But this? This was passion.

It was passion in the way Josephine had taken Scarlett’s face in her hands. Those long, jeweled fingers eased down the soft canvas of the Darling’s flesh. But it was also passion in the way Scarlett wrapped her legs around Josephine’s waist, drunk off the touch of whiskey on her tongue. It was the only reason she gripped her shirt and tore it off her shoulders.

“I’m not surprised by much, Little Dove,” Josephine said, “but I’m yet to figure you out.”

Scarlett sat up, arms slung low around her form. “Oh, but I’m not yours to figure out.”

“You’re not?” Josephine asked, feeling the woman’s tongue trail between her breasts. “You have the Silver Tyrant in your bed.”

“She came here of her own volition,” Scarlett whispered, peppering kisses along the Heir’s collarbone.

Josephine grasped Scarlett by the back of her hair. She wound those long, thick tresses around her hand, using it as a leash to hold her at bay. The Darling let out a breathy sigh, melting at the center. “Perhaps I did, seeing what I could claim should you let me.”

Scarlett took Josephine’s free hand and set it against her chest. The full of her breasts swelled under that soft nightgown, and while she spread her thighs only slightly, Josephine looked at her—curiously intrigued. “You can claim whatever else I giveyou. But this is my bed,” the Darling murmured, “and you’re my guest.”

Twice now, Josephine smiled. And how beautifully she obeyed.

With the fluidity and grace Scarlett could only dream of, Josephine’s lips trailed along Scarlett’s hand, down her wrist, tightening only when she pinned her to the sheets. A breathy exhalation lingered, a brief moment of doubt—something no Singh would ever allow to be seen. No one but her.

That molded into something else as she trailed her lips down Scarlett’s long neck. Josephine’s hand took hold of that pesky nightgown and pulled the fabric down over her chest.

Scarlett squirmed impatiently, for the Second Heir had taken her time pressing kisses to her chest, her thumb stroking over the hardened bud of her nipples. Just the softest lap of her tongue, the way her sharp teeth brushed her flesh, had Scarlett arching her back with a moan.

Just like that…she thought.

Josephine pulled her hand between Scarlett’s legs. “Like what? Like this?” She slipped her fingers under Scarlett’s panties with seamless ease. Practiced, confident—like she’d done it a thousand times.

Scarlett tried closing her thighs. “Careful.”

”Oh, I’m always careful, Little Dove.” Josephine ripped the lace with a mere shift of her fingers. Scarlett gasped at the feel of cold air against her wet pussy. And then when Josephine dragged open mouthed kisses down her body, lapping at the softness between her legs.

Scarlett let out a startled moan, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle her pleasure. “Don’t hide,” Josephine carefully guided Scarlett’s hand from her mouth and situated it between her legs. Two fingers pressed against her clit, and it took the Darling some time–through a spark of lust that made her visionhazy–to understand that they were her own. “I have a feeling you haven’t been taken care of before,” Josephine whispered, her hand over Scarlett’s. “Let’s change that.”

Scarlett propped herself up on her elbow, her legs parting inches wider, a wordless invitation. No matter how much she wanted to quip back, Josephine’s beauty and confidence left her stunned into silence. She seemed to be embraced by the shadows and the flickering orange light from the nearby sconces, the same ones that bent to her will.

At least like this, she could watch the way Josephine’s soft lips pressed along the inside of her thighs. Made her wait until her tongue found its way back to the heat emanating between her legs. No matter how much Scarlett wanted to anticipate the touch, she couldn’t. Not when she was touching herself, fingers moving in a slow, calculating manner.

Josephine parted only slightly, her warm breath still hot on Scarlett’s center. Two long fingers sheathed her, drawing a strangled cry from Scarlett’s mouth. A third had her top teeth burrowing into her bottom lip, struggling to keep composure. But every little nerve in her body screamed on alert. From the way she stroked herself to Josephine’s rhythmic pulse–a slow, agonizing pump of the fingers–to her tongue lapping the warmth seeping from her cunt.

Scarlett drove her hips down against Josephine’s mouth and her fingers. It earned a soft bout of laughter that made their sinful dance nothing short of innocent. The Heir pulled back, licking her lips as she did. She pressed her hand into the plush sheets beside Scarlett, trapping her with that brilliant, hovering presence.

Scarlett couldn’t look away even if she wanted. She was entranced by the Second Heir’s mysterious aura, that too with the feeling of Josephine’s pace quickening. “How are you where I needed you most?” Scarlett whispered, her lashes fluttering.

Josephine’s brow quirked. “Do you mean figuratively or literally?” She spread her fingers, prompting Scarlett to tilt her head back until the touch of the sheets caressed her.

She turned away, a wave of blush touching the hollows of her cheeks, dropping across her chest, spreading through her core. “You know what I mean.”

“Perhaps. I’m just shocked you’ve strained against that little collar my brother donned on you. What did he say? That they were jewels bathed in the ancient waters of our people?”

“Blessed by monks,” Scarlett sighed in bliss. “For seven–”

“–days and seven nights, guarded in a temple on the top of a mountain path where the desert met snow and the spirits came to bless an offering meant for the bosom of a good, dutiful girl.” While there was no humor in Josephine’s words, it had blossomed against her features in mockery and a tinge of anger. “A girl that forsook her freedom for love, not knowing she could have both.”

“You made that up,” Scarlett accused, her eyes flashing. With daring boldness a Darling could never have, she moved her hand to clutch Josephine by the hair, yanking her up from between her so their frames were close. “You lie through your teeth.”

“That would be my brother, Little Dove,” Josephine said, hands roving down the sides of Scarlett’s nearly naked body, her gown immodest. With fingers stopping at her hips, she added, “But if you want to make me your villain for a night, I don’t mind.” Scarlett’s grip tightened around her hair, cutting off Josephine’s words with a strangled grunt. She rolled them until she was straddling her again. “So long as you finish–”

---