Page 114 of Inside the Wicked

CHAPTER 41

Anastasia

The carnival grounds are packed with bodies, loud with music and game sounds, and bright with all the strobe lights. We have some of our people tracking the guys who are targeting women for Forthson tonight, we’re just waiting for their signal and I’m growing antsy.

“Would it be terribly cliché to want to ride the Ferris wheel?” I ask Rhett as a distraction, strolling hand in hand with him while I bite off pieces of my cotton candy.

“Probably.”

“Excellent.” I pull him along. “We’re fulfilling one full night of the most lovesick movie clichés.”

Every time I glance at him I grow embarrassingly wetter between my legs. I can’t explain how sexy he looks in his half-face skull makeup. I did a pretty great job, if I do say so myself.

“This line is terribly long,” Rhett says.

“Does Mr. Grumpy need a snack to pass the time?” I tease, breaking off a piece of candy floss and reaching up to his mouth.

He takes it from my fingers with his instead, and when he directs it back to my mouth, I open for him too eagerly.

“If we get on this thing, I can’t promise I won’t make a snack out of you.”

His thumb presses down on my lips, his head angled enough to partly shield our faces with his baseball cap. My tongue flicks out before I hollow my cheeks around his thumb. Rhett groans softly, daring to slip a hand over my ass.

“You’re being highly inappropriate,” he growls.

“You started it.”

It only takes thirty minutes for our turn, which is fine for me but absolutely torturous for someone like Rhett, apparently. We scoot into the little round carriage before it begins to rise.

He looks out over the grounds with an elbow hooked over the side. “What is the appeal in this thing?”

“It’s romantic!” Honestly, I think I’m trying to persuade myself there’s something magical in this painstakingly slow carousel.

Rhett shifts closer and lifts my leg over his thigh. “It could be,” he mutters huskily before cupping my pussy hard over my denim shorts. I gasp, darting my eyes around, because these carriages are open as fuck. I don’t see anyone noticing, and I don’t want him to stop.

“Do you think I could make you come before we get off?” he asks, undoing my button.

“It’s a very short ride,” I breathe.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

I’m deplorably turned on by the fact we’re in public. Rhett’s fingers massage my clit, and I suck my bottom lip under my teeth with the first sparks of pleasure.

“I want to fuck you right here and not care who we disgrace,” he says at my throat.

“Rhett, people might see,” I whisper. We’ve passed the top and are heading back down.

“That turns you on, doesn’t it? I can feel you growing wetter by the second.”

I try to shift, turning toward him in an attempt to look innocently enamored as we reach the bottom and go around again. Rhett’s fingers curve inside me as we do, and my nails scratch into his neck, which tenses.

“Come on, little bird. Give it to me.” My shorts restrict him being able to fuck me with his fingers the way I’m aching for, but his attention on my clit speeds my breaths, and I come so close ... so fucking close.

“I think I’m going to—oh fuck.” My arms clamp around his, my body tensing at the impending orgasm.

Then he stops.

His hand slips out of my shorts, and I’m delirious and panting, sinking at his refusal to let me finish. By the time I've pulled back, Rhett has buttoned my shorts, pulling his fingers, which were inside of me, out of his mouth with a wicked smile at my look of irritation.

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