Page 75 of Vicious Games

“That feel good?” he rasps, his voice gravelly.

“Yes,” I pant, my head tipping back.

“Show me.”

“How?”

“Rub up against me.”

My heart stops at the order. “Rub?”

“Yes. Fuck, Frankie,” he groans, his frustration laced with something darker. “Just move.”

He lets go of my hair and plants his hands on my hips. Then he pulls me flat against him. I gasp at the friction, at the hard press of him beneath my panties. Back and forth, he goes, repeating the slow torturous dance.

“I got it,” I whisper after my body catches his rhythm.

“Good girl,” he praises, his breath hot against my ear again as I start to move.

Back and forth. Slow at first. Then faster.

The friction between us is delicious, the hard ridge of him pressing just right between my legs. A moan spills past my lips, my forehead falling against his shoulder. Lucky groans against my neck, sucking harder, while his hold on me intensifies, urging me to keep going.

The ache inside me grows. A pressure that coils tighter and tighter with every rock of my hips.

“Fuck, just like that, baby. Jesus fucking Christ, don’t stop, Frankie.”

The desperation in his voice sends a thrill straight through me, pushing me closer to the edge. I can feel the heat of his skin through his clothes. The tension in his muscles. The raw, frantic need pulsing between us.

Sweat beads along my skin as I bury my face in his neck.

“Lucky, look at me,” I whisper, my hands sliding up to cup his face. He shakes his head, biting his lip. “Lucky.”

I brush my lips along the corners of his mouth, kissing his jaw, tracing my tongue along the seam of his lips.

He always responds to my kiss. And this time is no exception. His hands dig into my waist as he kisses me back, his grasp punishing like he wants to leave bruises.

I break away, panting, my movements becoming more frantic.

“Look at me,” I plead again, needing the connection that only his eyes on mine can create.

His eyelids flutter open, causing my breath to catch in my throat. There, in his gaze, is everything I’ve been trying to ignore since this started. Raw. Unfiltered. Desperate. A perfect reflection of the ache clawing at my insides.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Don’t fucking look at me like that.”

“Like what?” I pant, still rolling my hips, gasping when the friction hits just right.

“Like you fucking want me inside you,” he grits out, his hands clutching my ass cheeks now, his restraint slipping.

I don’t get a chance to reply.

Lucky curses under his breath while anchoring me closer.

“Fuck. You’re so fucking beautiful, Frankie. So fucking beautiful.”

His fingers dig into me, guiding me, urging me to move faster.

“I could come just looking at your face,” he pants, his jaw clenched. “Fuck. Iamgoing to come. God… Fuck!” he curses, his body jerking beneath me.

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