Page 10 of Gemini Queen
But even though he’s wrathful, even though I’m fighting him, even though I know he’s half a penthouse floor away, the feel of Lucius Aries’ powerful hands on my body when I’m about six pumps away from coming suddenly turns out to be rather more than I’ve bargained for.
Because in that moment of searing intimacy, while I’m fucking like blazes with my pants slid halfway down my hips, it’s like he’s touching me for real.
Touching me the way I’ve always fantasized and hoped and dreamed he would. Touching me the way a man touches his lover. Touching me with hunger and need instead of restraint and indifference. All at once, it’s like I’m here in this room with both of them. LuciusandZara. And all my teacher needs to do is bend me over and spread me and ream me the way I’m bloody begging for.
And he’ll be fucking both of us.
Of course he has this filthy fantasy from my head in a heartbeat, thanks to that wretched mentor-student hold he has on me. I can almost hear his slow inhale.
Very well, Mr. Pendragon,he rasps in my ear, sounding a wee bit ragged himself.I’m afraid you’ll oblige me to undertake more severe measures.
Phantom lips nuzzle my skin and every hair on my body stands straight up. The shadowy scrape of phantom fangs grazes my shoulder and my entire body breaks out in goosebumps. And even though I know it’s just a disciplinary bite he’s threatening me with, the alpha bite that compels complete submission from his pack… even though I know it’s an abject submission I’ll hate and not the mating bite I’m craving… this is the closest to sexual foreplay that sadist who calls himself my teacher and I have ever strayed.
And the Gemini witch is staring straight into my eyes like she knows he’s in my head. Most girls close their eyes right about now, but this one? She just won’t look away. Her face is fractured and her eyes are raw and she stares straight through me like she’s seeing into my soul.
Damn you, Ronin,Lucius breathes against my skin.I swear you’re going to regret this.
I don’t doubt it. But I’m still not going to stop.
“Punish me later,” I groan through clenched teeth.
Oh, I fully intend to. And I hardly require your permission.
And with his promise in my head and his hands at my waist and his teeth at my throat, with Zara arching and writhing and crying out her climax, my buttocks clench and my cock spasms and I catapult with a shout into the most soul-shattering orgasm of my entire blooming life.
In fact, I come so hard I’m still blind and reeling when the bomb goes off.
Chapter Seven
Zara
The force of the explosion blows the bathroom door off its hinges into the opposite wall. The mirror behind me shatters and glass tinkles down around us like lethal confetti. The blast throws Ronin forward and hurls our joined bodies across the granite counter.
Operating on sheer survival instinct, I wrap my body around him to anchor both of us.
Instead of pushing me away to fend for myself like I halfway expect, he grips me tight, pushing my face into his chest as broken glass rains over us.
“Shit,” I gasp into his sweaty skin. Resisting the urge even now to drag my tongue down his tattooed body. “This isnotwhere I’m supposed to be right now.”
“Oh, did I distract you?” His smug tone annoys me to no end, and my moment of gratitude vaporizes in a nuclear flash. But he’s already coiling to his feet, somehow having enough presence of mind to keep a grip on the condom—which I appreciate despite my annoyance—as he pulls out.
“Safe to say you took longer than five minutes,” I grumble, snapping my thighs together and pushing up to sit.
His sly grin makes my pulse trip. “You told me to make you come. You’ll have to admit I didn’t disappoint.”
Why does the guy have to be such a total dickwad, yet still so crazy hot?
I’m tempted to say something along those lines out loud—minus the crazy hot part. But I’ve got bigger problems right now than Ronin’s ego. Right outside our hideaway, there’s a mounting chorus of yells and screams. The acrid smell of smoke hits my nose and burns my throat. A blip later, the ululating whoop of the fire alarm joins the party, and the strobe starts flashing.
And that’s my cue to brush off the glass, adding the sting of a few minor nicks to all that sensory overload I’m fighting to process, and drag my extremely well-fucked body off the counter. Glass crunches under my boots, and damn if my knees aren’t wobbly from that monumental shagging that just completely distracted me from the whole point of my being here. Plus there’s all sorts of debris on the floor, and my panties have gone MIA.
I guess now we’ll both be going commando.
Trying to ignore the breeze down below, I tug my dress over my hips and push my hair out of my eyes and hunt around for my clutch. Meanwhile, that Brit who’s just fucked me senseless is dealing with the condom and zipping himself into his pants and pulling his torn shirt over his shoulders, all with total efficiency.
For a guy who just got blown off his feet by a bomb, I can’t help noticing, he’s looking suspiciously unfazed.
But that would make sense, wouldn’t it, if he’s an Icarus boy? Because there’s no way he’s here, tonight, with me, by accident.
