Page 26 of Dance of Deception

“Youwon’t, you sick fucking?—”

I cry out, a shattering, horrible whimper as he casually reaches up and pinches one of my nipples through the dress. Pure heat and an electric throb zip through my core, turning it molten.

What. The. FUCK is wrong with you, self.

“Let me finish,” he purrs, his voice saccharine. “Or, instead ofthisgame, we’ll play the one where I turn you around and ram my fat cock up your ass until you can’t remember what walking normally feels like.”

A lump forms in my throat. I swallow it, and nod my head.

“Good girl. Now, as I was saying:whenI find your panties soaked for me—I’m guessing even more so after that last threat, based on my initial psychological evaluation of you?—”

“Which tells youwhat, exactly?” I blurt.

The blank mask tips dangerously to the side, its black eyeholes stabbing into me.

He lets the silence stretch out, allows me to squirm.

His heat is too much, too close, his strong hand still resting heavy on my hip, pulling my dress almost all the way up. His fingers flexing just enough to remind me he’s still holding me there.

Then, in a voice low and dark, edged with cruel amusement, he says:

“It tells me you likefear, little dancer.”

My breath catches.

“It tells me that you and the dark side have a storied past, and ittells methat no matter how strenuously your mind tries to protest, your body knows the truth.” His fingers suddenly skate lower, teasing, tracing down the seam where my inner thigh meets my sex.

My entire body trembles, heat thrumming within my core.

“It tells me that you like the darkness when it comes wrapped upjust right.”

A sharp, sick thrill curls low in my belly.

Suddenly, his hand is slipping between my thighs, his palm resting right on my pussy through the lace of my panties.

Which, mortifyingly, aresoaked.

A low, malicious chuckle rumbles from his chest as he dips his head. I shudder, my breath turning staggered and halting as the heat of his voice teases right against my earlobe.

“Seems we have our answer.”

His thumb hooks into the edge of the lace, pulling my panties aside. And then suddenly, without warning, he’s sinkingtwothick fingers deep inside me.

I jolt, gasping violently at the sudden intrusion and the abrupt feeling of being filled so entirely. I choke out a moan, whimpering as my hips buck, my inner walls clamping down on his fingers. My hands fly out instinctively, but when they land against his forearm, my fingers digging into those iron muscles, I’m not actually sure if I’m trying to push him away or clinging to him in eager desperation.

“Well, well, well,” The Hound growls darkly. His thick fingers ease out, then instantly ram back in. I moan out a whimper as he curls them deep, and my face goes beet red at the lewd sounds of my desire squelching around them.

“Looks like I was right in my assessment, wasn’t I.”

I start to shake my head and open my mouth to tell him how wrong he is. But I lose the power of speech when he shoves his fingers into me again, curling them against an achy, needy part of me that’s roaring to be set free.

“We’ve already determined that you’re a shitty liar, little dancer,” he growls, thrusting roughly into me again, the sound of my arousal filling the air around us as my face burns.

“Iknewyou’d like this,” he rasps into my ear. “Iknewyou’d turn into a messy little slut if I chased you through the darkness like willing little prey.”

“Fuck you,” I choke, my fingers digging into his rippling forearm. His fingers scissor inside me, the embarrassingly wet sounds drifting up to my ears as my walls clench needily and desperately around the intruding fingers.

I lift a hand to his chest, trying to shove him away from me. But it’s like trying to push over a mountain.

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