Page 49 of Lethal Legacy

“What was that?” I tilt my head toward her. “Is there something you want to say?”

“Yes.” Her voice is strangled, and I can visibly see her nipples swelling.

“What is it, Lucia?”

“I’m not avedma,a witch.” Her hands are tightly clenched, her legs actually shaking. The sheer triangle between them is dark with moisture that slicks the inside of her thighs.

I laugh softly. “Oh no?” I shake my head, my eyes drinking in the sight of her arousal. My cock twitches angrily. I’m almost beyond arguing with it at this point. “Fuck, Lucia. I’ve never seen sexier curves. Your body has been bewitching me for months. And naked?” I raise my glass to her, intrigued at the way her eyes drop at the compliment, her face flushing anew. “Avedmais exactly what you are.” I nod at the remaining black triangle. “Off.”

She bends down to slide the offending garment off, and the scent of her is like crack cocaine to an addict.

I’m not going to be able to hold out for long. Not with her this close, her musky scent taunting my senses, her body just begging for me to touch it, her lips open and eyes glazed with need. I can sense her desire to make this a darker game, and also her absolute reluctance to ask for what she wants.

Lucia Lopez might have a body made for fucking sin, but when it comes to these games, her uncertainty is obvious in every shaking limb and hesitant word that comes from her mouth.

She might know danger. But by the way her eyes ducked away at my compliment, nobody’s ever told her how hot she truly is.

Which is a very good thing.

Because the mere thought of any man seeing her like she is now makes me want to tear the fucking walls down.

“Take out your hair,” I growl.

Fuck. Does she haveanyidea how hot she looks, reaching up to pull the pin out of that coiled mass? Or how devastating it is to watch it fall down her body, all the way to the top of her ass?

By the way she’s biting her lip, I’m guessing she doesn’t have a damn clue. Which is the hottest thing about it.

“Lie down on the bed,” I say hoarsely. I’m long past hiding how much this is getting to me.

“Yes, Roman.” She slips the stilettos off, then slides onto the bed with her back to me, one knee at a time, her peach-shaped ass high in the air and slightly parted legs affording me a glimpse of her smooth pink cleft, already swollen and glistening.

Oh, fuck me.

“Turn over,” I order, and she does. “Now open your legs.”

She isn’t just glistening. She’s dewy wet, her knees far enough apart that it’s a mute plea. I clench the glass to resist the urge to slide either my fingers, or even better, my cock, right inside her.

Not yet.

“Touch your nipples.”

I know it isn’t her nipples that need attention. I know it by the way her knees sway from side to side, trying to stimulate herself where she needs it as she rolls her nipples, giving a soft moan that drives me insane. Her hips are moving in slow circles, arching toward me, begging for relief.

“What do you want, Miss Lopez? Tell me.”

“Oh,” she moans softly.

“Tell me.”

“I want—between my legs—”

“What do you want there, Miss Lopez?”

“You,” she gasps, her legs splaying wide so she’s laid open and wanting for my eyes to feast on. “Your hands.”

I laugh softly. “Not yet. First, I want to watchyourhands. You can touch yourself now, Lucia.”

Her breasts arch up as her hand slips between her legs. Her soft gasp as one finger begins slow, intense circles on her clit makes my cock surge beyond any last shred of comfort. She’s still rolling one nipple with her other hand, and the way she’s writhing on the bed has me gnashing my fucking teeth.

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