Page 117 of 10 Days to Ruin

“Sasha—”

“Look.” I tighten my grip on her hair, angling her face toward our reflection. My fingers glide through her, spreading her open, as her sweetness drips down my knuckles. “Look at what you do to me. What I do to you.”

Her throat works as I slide two fingers inside. That perfect mouth falls open when I curl them just so. “You see? This?” I pump faster, thumb circling her clit with filthy, wet sounds. “This is whatwantinglooks like.”

Ariel’s shaking now, thighs trembling around my wrist. I watch drops of sweat slide between her shoulder blades, past the flush crawling up her neck. My cock aches—a persistent, primal drumbeat. But not yet. Not until…

“Come for me,” I rasp against her ear. “Let them all hear.”

Her back arches. “I can’t?—”

I bite the juncture of neck and shoulder as I shove her cheek against the glass and draw another whine out of her. “You can. You will.” Every word is another crack of the whip she’s begging me to use on her. “Show me how good you are.”

She breaks open with a shattered cry I swallow with my palm. The convulsions around my fingers nearly undo me. I press her harder into the mirror to muffle the sounds, watching her mascara smear across the glass. Her whimpers vibrate through my hand.

When she slumps forward, I catch her against my chest. She’s panting, those perfect tits heaving with every inhale. I tug the curtain aside—just a finger’s width—and pause.

Voices float towards me. French syllables, sharp as stilettos—Yvonne and another client, three dressing rooms down. We’re close enough to smell her Chanel No.5. She’s close enough to hear every one of Ariel’s hitched breaths.

Ariel goes rigid in my arms. I press my mouth to her damp hair. “Does it scare you? Being caught?”

“Not a bit.”

I cluck my tongue. “Haven’t I warned you about lying to me?”

“You do a lot of that,” Ariel pants. “I think you’re all talk.”

I laugh cruelly, right in her face. “Pot, kettle. You’ve been thrashing at the reins since the minute we met. But you’ve been likethis—”I reach out to cup her pussy, relishing how she moans and squirms, but not enough to actually get away from my touch. “—since the second you first heard me call you mine. Since the library, the spa, since the fucking gala bathroom. Dripping for me while you waste breathing calling me a bastard.”

Her hand sneaks back, palming my cock through slacks. “I think you talk too much.”

The challenge snaps something primal. I spin her again, back to the mirror, and shove her forward until her tits smear against the glass. The rasp of my zipper’s downward drag echoes in the tiny space.

“Stay right fucking there.” I bite the word into the nape of her neck as I release her and step back. “Don’t move. Don’t touch yourself.”

She does as I say. Her reflection watches me strip—jacket hitting the floor, shirt following. When I’m bare-chested, I kneel behind her. My tongue licks a hot stripe from knee to thigh. She tastes like salt and poor decisions. Like every sin I’ve ever craved.

“You’re insane,” she whispers as my teeth sink into the soft flesh of her ass.

“And you’re wetter than ever.” I slide two fingers back into her heat. “What does that make you, Ariel?”

Her moan judders through the mirror when I add a third finger. The stretch makes her eyelids flutter. I watch her throat work as I pump slowly, carefully. “Answer me. It wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

“It makes me… d…d-des…”

“What’s that?” I suckle her clit from behind for a moment, then let it fall from my lips. “I can’t hear you.”

“Desperate.” Her hips jerk back. “Fuck—please?—”

My free hand finds her throat. Not squeezing. Just… holding. A reminder. “Desperate for…?”

Her eyes meet mine in the glass. Defiance wars with hunger. Hunger wins. “You. Always you.”

That guts me. Rips me wide open. I’m moving before I decide to—dragging her up by the throat, shoving her against the wall, her back to my front. Our mouths clash—a battle of teeth and tongues and broken growls. Her legs hitch around my hips. I shove my slacks down just enough, spit into my palm, stroke myself once. Her eyes find mine in the mirror—dark, hooded,daringme.

I slam home.

The mirror rattles. Her cry drowns in my mouth. For one suspended eternity, we’re fused together—her heat strangling my cock, my hand bruising her thigh. Then she moves.

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