Page 134 of Dance of Deception

I can’t breathe. Can’t think.

Just feel.

His tongue is relentless, his fingers curling perfectly into me. I grip my thighs tightly, keeping myself right where he wants me.

I whimper brokenly and helplessly as his other hand grabs my ass, his fingers digging into my flesh possessively, bruising it.

“Come for me, little dancer,” he rasps against my pussy. “Let me feel you come right now.”

I arch, my body chasing the pleasure all at once.

“That’sit… Give it to me… Don’t hold back… Give me every fucking drop…”

His voice is darkly hypnotic as it snakes through my veins, making the pleasure coil even tighter.

“So sensitive. So perfect. Look at you, baby, so fuckingwreckedfor me.”

I cry out, my hands gripping my thighs so hard I swear I’m going to draw blood.

“You don’t come for anyone but me. Say it.”

I sob, barely able to think.

“Say it, Lyra.”

“Only for you,” I gasp, right on the edge.

And then, I fuckingshatter.

Pleasure roars through me, pulling me under, drowning me in heat, in fire, in Carmine.

I writhe, screaming his name. He doesn’t stop: his grip tightens, keeping me right there, letting me feel everything.

“Good girl.”

I’m still coming down, trembling, my breath uneven, but Carmine doesn’t give me time to recover. I watch him, dazed, as he stands and shrugs off his black dress shirt, revealing muscle, power, and precision. It’s like every inch of him has been sculpted for destruction and carved from raw brutality. His broad chest, his chiseled abs, the v-lines of his hips. His forearms, roped with veins, flex as he drags his belt free, slow and deliberate.

Fucking hell.

Something dark and dangerous coils in my core as my thighs clench together.

He’s lethal.

The way he moves, the way his body is built to dominate and destroy.

The way he knows exactly what he does to me.

Savageness glints in his eyes as he crawls over me, his weight pressing me down. He moves like a wild animal, caging me beneath him, his hands gripping my wrists, pinning them to the bed as his hips spread my thighs apart.

His scent envelops me, his breath hot against my neck.

His fingers twist into my hair at the nape of my neck, possessive and demanding. His other hand cups my jaw roughly as he slides two fingers over my lips and then pushes them into my mouth.

“Taste yourself. Taste how fucking messy you get for me. Lick your cum off my fingers like a good girl.”

I whimper, my eyes locked on his as my lips wrap around the intruding fingers. I suck on them, tasting myself when he strokes them over my tongue. They slide free, and suddenly his mouth slams to mine, fierce, unrelenting. He lets me taste more of myself on his tongue, a filthy, branding claim, reminding me whose I am.

Heat throbs through my core when I feel his huge, swollen cock drag up my lips, forcing them apart. He centers himself against my opening, his thick size taking my breath away.

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