Page 88 of Devious Madness

But I don’t need to see him to know his jaw is clenched.

“You’re up,” he breaks the silence.

“Bad call?” I push the blankets away and swing my legs off to the side of the bed.

“No worse than I expected.” He leans against the doorframe. “Your nightgown is on.”

“I was going to sleep.”

“Take it off.”

I feel his voice more than I hear it. Rough and ragged, it cuts through the air in the room. There’s an unspoken need in him, one that fills me, too.

Pulling the shirt over my head, I let it drop to the floor beside the bed. My nipples pebble beneath the cool air of the room and the scrutiny of his heated gaze.

With steady steps, he makes his way to me until his toes brush mine. He knuckles my chin until my head is pushed back and tilts it to one side so the narrow beam of light from the bathroom shines on my face.

“You removed your stitches.”

“They were itchy, and it’s been long enough.”

He lets go of my chin, moving his touch to where the stitches had been a few short hours ago.

“Can I never leave you alone?”

“You had a medical kit in the bathroom. It wasn’t hard. Alot easier than putting them in.” I touch his shoulder where his own are still in place.

His eyebrow lifts along with the corner of his mouth.

“You can take mine out in the morning.” His gaze moves to my mouth, and he wraps a hand around my throat.

“You…you don’t want me to do it now?”

“No.” He drags me forward while leaning into me until his mouth takes mine captive.

My breath catches as soon as our lips touch. It’s intoxicating, the sort of intoxication that steals the ability to think, leaving only sensations. Beneath his fingertips on my throat, I’m sure he can feel my pulse banging against my skin.

He shifts closer, the heat of his palm spreading over my throat and down my body until every bit of me is on fire. It’s all consuming—his presence, his touch, his ownership. Clear as day, he marks me as his with his searing kiss.

“I have better plans for right now,” he mutters against my mouth, breaking the kiss and retreating a small step. “On your knees, Mira.”

I swallow beneath his grip. This man, a giant in comparison to me, could easily snap my neck if he makes a fist. But he doesn’t shove me down or squeeze any tighter; he just waits for me to obey.

As I move down to my knees, his hand drops from my throat.

“Good girl.” Two words that might as well be an army of vibrators with the way my pussy reacts.

Shoving his black boxers down to his feet, he kicks themaway. His cock, thick and heavy, bobs in front of me. He doesn’t make a sound as he brings it to my lips.

He doesn’t need to. Wrapping my hand around his thick shaft, I wrap my lips around the head of his cock.

When I suck him into my mouth, my tongue gliding along the underside of his dick, he moans. It’s a ragged sound, full of urgency and need.

He fists my hair, yanking me back until he’s almost past my lips, then drags me forward, shoving hard into me until he hits the back of my throat.

I swallow and do it again to keep from choking. But he continues this method, dragging me back only to fuck my mouth hard. Tears build and fall, rolling down my cheeks as he continues to ruthlessly fuck my mouth.

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, thrusting into my throat again.

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