Page 116 of The Owner's Temptation

“No one has ever licked my cunt before.”

Everything about him tightens.

His jaw. His thigh. His grip on my skin.

The air around us shifts—heavier now. Hungrier.

He doesn’t say a word, but I feel it in the way he breathes. In the dangerous stillness of his body. Like a predator deciding whether to devour his prey here and now, or let the hunger stretch longer.

I roll my hips again, slowly—an invitation, a dare.

The friction is exquisite, the rough grain of the grinder dragging perfectly against the thin lace between my legs. My clit throbs, and I can’t help the way my back arches, my head falling back slightly as I ride the thick muscled thigh beneath me.

The Devil’s fingers slide higher. Not rough, not rushed.

Reverent.

Possessive.

“Mmm, little rabbit…” His voice is low, dark silk wrapping around my ears. “That’s a dangerous secret to tell.”

One of his hands slips away from my hip, trailing down—slow and unhurried. His fingers dip between my thighs, brushing the soaked lace clinging to my heat.

Then, rough knuckles drag across my bare clit as he pushes the fabric aside.

A gasp tears from my lips.

He growls low in his throat, primal and pleased. “You’re drenched,” he murmurs, voice like smoke and sin. “My little rabbit, sitting all pretty on the Devil’s lap… soaking through your panties like this.”

I tremble when his fingers glide lower, slipping between the slick folds of my pussy—just once—before retreating. He pulls my panties to the side completely, then guides my hips back down. My bare cunt presses flush against the ribbing of the grinder.

“Fuck,” I whisper, breath catching.

Both his hands return to my hips, heavy and demanding. He grips me, guiding my motion. Forward. Back. Slow. Deliberate. Every movement a study in patience and torment.

He’s feasting on my reactions.

“Have you come to make a deal with the Devil?” he asks, his voice a decadent purr in my ear.

“Yes,” I pant, keeping the rhythm, grinding harder against the thick muscle of his thigh. My clit is throbbing, dragging over the rough texture of the silicon strapped. To him. I’m already climbing fast. Too fast.

“You want my tongue on your needy little pussy, rabbit?”

A whimper escapes me as he leans in, sniffing slowly up the curve of my neck. His breath is hot, his teeth grazing skin, not quite biting.

“Yes.” It’s a moan. A confession. A prayer.

“What do you have to give the devil in return?”

I hesitate—only a fraction of a second—but he feels it. Sees it in the twitch of my breath, the flutter of my lashes. I try to play it cool, to mask the sharp flicker of panic.

“What do you want?” I ask, grinding harder. Faster. Desperate for the friction. For the release Lucian has denied me again and again.

His answer is a lash wrapped in velvet. “Your trust.”

I falter—just slightly—but he doesn’t let me slow. His hands return to my hips, urging me forward and back. Thrusting me against him with a rhythm that’s turning me inside out.

“Trust is the only thing that matters in my domain,” he says, and I can barely hear him through the rush of blood in my ears. “It’s more valuable than diamonds. More coveted than power. The ones who give it carelessly?” His hands tighten. “They never survive this place.”

---