Page 23 of Dance With A Devil
Because right now, itis.
“What did you think you were doing just now?” His voice is rough velvet, dark, amused, edged in heat.
A nervous laugh bubbles out of me. “Fucking you?” I squirm, hips twitching beneath him.
That wicked smirk of his cuts through the dim light, and God help me, it makes my pussy clench.
“For a minute, yeah.” His tone dips lower, hungrier. “But now it’smyturn.”
He dips down, face buried in the crook of my neck, and sinks his teeth in, hard. The kind of bite that’ll leave a mark. My breath catches.
“Oh, God!”
He thrusts deeper, grunting, “You’re tighter like this. Fuck.” Each snap of his hips is a promise to ruin me.
“I wonder what Wyck would do,” he pants, “if he knew I was fucking you raw. Stretching you open, filling you up while he’s playing by the rules like a good little devil.” He laughs, dark and filthy, and I moan, shameless.
“Just… don’t come inside me.”
He stills. “Why the fuck not?”
“Because,” I hesitate, heat crawling up my neck. “I’m not on the pill.”
His lips crash against mine before I can take it back. “Guess we’re playing with fire, then.”
“Karter.”
“Shh,” he growls, pulling my legs over his shoulders. “Brats don’t get to make rules. Now shut up and take it.”
He fucks me like he means it, like he’s trying to brand his name into the deepest part of me. The kind of thrusts that make my teeth clatter and my soul scream. My breasts bounce with each brutal stroke, the slap of skin on skin echoing between our gasps.
“You gonna come for me, Brat?” he pants, sweat dripping from his jaw.
God, I love when he calls me that. It lights me up from the inside.
Heat burns up my spine and pools in my belly. I ride the high, clinging to his forearms as the orgasm rips through me. “Karter, fuck—”
“That’s it. Let go. Milk my cock like the filthy little devil you are.”
His hips stutter, then he’s cursing under his breath, “Fucking take it, take all of me.” He pumps hot inside, so deep I swear I can feel it in my throat.
“Karter,” I whisper, dazed. “My very own Devil of Cliffside.”
He grins through the aftershocks, hips twitching one last time. “I’ll be whatever my brat needs me to be.” And then he collapses on top of me, head resting on my chest.
“Wouldn’t it be perfect if we just stayed here all day?” he murmurs. “Marathon sex. No lies. No masks. Just us.”
I giggle, drunk on his touch. “Sounds perfect.”
His chest rumbles with laughter. “We can come as many times as we want in here. I’ll fuck you into the floor if I have to.”
He lifts his head, mischief gleaming behind those devil-may-care eyes. “But you still owe me something.”
Ugh. There it is. The deal. The truth. I groan. “Do I have to?”
“Yes.” His voice hardens. “Unless you want this to be the last time I fuck you.”
I pout, about to argue when I move to slip out of bed.
