Page 127 of Violet

“No,” I say. “No problem. Are you ready to go?”

He slides an arm around me. “With you? Anywhere.”

Stephan draws me in and kisses me so thoroughly my legs are wobbling when he’s done. My lips tingle, and I’m hot, bothered, so turned-on I actually forget we have an audience.

But Stephan lifts his head. “Ladies.”

And then we’re gone.

Down the stairs, and instead of into the ballroom, he makes a right, dragging me into a darkened room where he shoves me against the wall, trailing a hand up my thigh, under my dress.

He nibbles my throat, making me explode with bursts of light, and I’m ready to drown in him.

“You shouldn’t fucking lie to protect people when they don’t need it. Alicia and those like her will resent you for it, Princess.”

“I want to go.”

He sighs, feathers a kiss on my lips. “As soon as we can, we’re out of here.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

After the run-in with Alicia and her gathering of Omegas, Stephan sticks to me like glue. Which unravels me.

Thoughts ping off each other, my needs growing, and he seems to know it because he gets us out of the ball as soon as he can. I don’t know what he says to Fredrick or my mother or the hosts, but soon we’re in the limo heading back to his—ourplace.

The air’s throbbing with scent and desire, and I’m so overcome with a need to have him, to pounce, devour, demand his knot, that we barely make it in the door before he has me against the wall.

His mouth is hungry, an answer to my own needs, and it feeds my fire with bites and licks, his tongue a masterful manipulation of the emotions that sing in me with everybrush and tease, every parry and withdrawal. I drop down, clawing at his belt, freeing his magnificent cock.

I don’t know where this burst of confidence comes from, but suddenly I want to show him what he’s taught me, what I’ve learned. I stroke him, running my thumb over the precum, and then I lick up along the underside of his shaft to play with that area under the head that sometimes makes him howl in a way that hooks into me, makes me his submissive creature.

He sucks in a sharp breath, a growl of sound uttered from the depths of him, and his fingers sink into my hair.

“Fucking little goddess,” he mutters. “Your mouth is decadence personified.”

Stephan thrusts at me as he grabs my face, my jaw, forcing it open with gentle pressure, and he slams back into my throat, almost choking me.

It’s a choking I crave, the hammer of his cock, just like I crave the control, I crave the taking of it from me, like he’s doing now. I’ve pushed him over an edge, and he’s getting bigger in my mouth, stretching me so I can’t do anything but suck and be that passageway to his pleasure.

My pussy contracts like he’s in there, and a wave of pleasure so intense it almost hurts passes through me as my clit throbs.

He pulls free before he comes and drags me up into his arms and then into the kitchen. There he leans me over the table, my feet touching the floor, and he throws up my dress, ripping at my panties. He sinks into me, hard and fast, and I cry out.

Stephan grabs my hair, pulling my head up. “Are you trying to make me lose control?”

“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, I am.”

“Naughty minx.”

Those words feel just as good, just as strip-me-down-to-the-bone dangerous as his praise, making me his center of attention. And I throb and contract around him. Not quite orgasm, but something close.

“Fuck.” He pulls out, and then he fingers me and withdraws, only to push a finger, then another into my asshole. He works it, pleasurable, strange, so good.

He’s touched me there before, played with me, but this feels like intent. And there seem to be a million more nerve endings springing into life as he pulls his fingers free. Something wet and silky slides between my cheeks.

“What are you—” I look over my shoulder to see him holding a bottle of opaque liquid. Then the smell hits me—coconut. He’s poured coconut oil on me. “Stephan?—”

But I’m silenced by something much bigger than his fingers pushing against my tight hole this time.

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