Page 61 of Dance With A Devil
Karter stretches behind me, voice thick with humor. “You snore when you’re knocked out, just so you know. It’s cute… annoying, but cute.”
“Liar.” I glare.
“Nope. Confirmed.” Wyck adds, brushing my hair back. “Now get up, Little Fox. The world’s still burning, and we’ve got things to torch today.”
His words make my chest flutter. I’ve been drowning in my own mind lately, but that spark, that spark feels like something I can chase.
“What if I said I just want to stay wrapped up in this bed with you two forever?” I tease, shifting slightly but not moving to rise.
“That can be arranged,” Karter growls, gripping my waist and dragging me back against him. The bed trembles beneath us.
Wyck sighs, the commander in the trio. “Karter.”
“I’m listening.”
“No, you’re not.”
“We all want to rot in this bed, Wyck. But someone’s gotta pull the trigger first.”
Wyck swings his legs out and stands, stretching like a wolf after a fresh kill. “Get dressed. Both of you. The day won’t wait, and neither will what’s coming.”
He disappears into the bathroom without another word.
Karter drags his hands up and down my spine, voice soft but loaded. “You up for more chaos, Brat?”
“I don’t know…” My voice trails. “I still have a thousand unanswered questions clawing at my throat.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “Then read the journals. Confront Josie. And you already know you need to deal with Gaia and her loud-ass opinions.”
I roll my eyes. “Do Ihaveto?”
“Stop whining,” he bites. “And get your spoiled ass up.”
Instead, he yanks me into his arms, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist as he spins us in a slow, dizzying circle. I laugh, but it’s laced with something hungrier than joy.
When he finally stops, I kiss him. It’s sharp. Sweet. Laced with heat.
“Karter…” I purr, rolling my hips against the hard bulge between us. “Maybe we don’t have to leave just yet. Maybe you can take me somewhere else and fuck the answers out of me instead.”
His growl is a low, unholy sound. “Don’t tempt me, Brat.”
But I already am.
In a single, filthy motion, he drops his shorts, lines himself up, and sinks me down over the thick, pulsing length of him.
He doesn't wait for permission.
The moment the head of his cock breaches me, his head falls back. A groan rips through him like he’s been starved for centuries.
“Fuck, Athens.”
He lays me back down, doesn’t bother being gentle. One thrust. Two. And I’m unraveling. Screaming his name through gritted teeth as he fucks me straight into the mattress and into oblivion.
“Karter, Karter, Karter.” I gasp. My breath’s gone, but I still try to steal his when his mouth crashes into mine.
His arms cage me. “I could lose myself in you.”
I wish he would.
