Page 109 of Dark Horse

Getting closer. I just moaned without thinking, though, and now I’m worried they’ll hear me.

Well, half worried and kind of turned on.

What if they listen to me like we listened to Ramsey and Hazel?

They’re not exactly shy, sweetheart.

Do whatever feels good. They’d probably get off on it.

You better be moaning my fucking name though.

I am.

Can I use the vibrator again?

Yes. You can turn it on and count to ten. Then turn it off.

But you cannot come. Got it?

Got it.

I do as he asks of me, lying back down on my stomach before I slip it back between my legs and take my time counting to ten like I’m wringing every possible millisecond out of the experience. I sigh loudly into the pillow when I have to turn it off again. It’s torture, and if it was just me, I’d be letting myself ride this little vibrator over the edge. But even when he’s not here, I’m trying to be good for him.

I reach for the phone, and it nearly falls on the floor.I have to stretch to catch it, and the brush of my clit over the pillow is enough to get me to let out a soft cry. I bite into my lower lip, trying to force myself not to rock my hips over the pillow again. I swipe the text box open.

You’re torturing me.

You need to give me permission to come.

THE DEVIL:

We’ll see.

Soaking yet? Test yourself for me with your fingers.

I reach down with my free hand, and I barely have to brush my fingers over my skin to feel how wet I am. Everything is slick and swollen and dying for more friction.

Soaking.

Desperate.

Please let me come.

THE DEVIL:

You can wait.

Three more seconds with the vibrator. Please?

No.

I rock my hips forward over the pillow under my hips and let out a soft gasp. It’s torment and relief at the same time. I’m so close, and it gives me the slightest hint of something I need but not enough to free me from the torture.

“I don’t remember saying anything about putting a pillow between your legs.” His voice is thick and graveled.

I nearly jump out of my skin. Turning over and scrambling up the bed even though I know it’s him. Even in the dark, I can make out his shoulders and that jawline. His blue eyes catch a glint of the light, and he looks terrifying.

“Grant,” I whisper. “How the fuck—”

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