Page 74 of Moth
“Look at me,” my tormentor commands, going still. I shiver, bucking against him, but he’s resolute. “Fucking look at me.”
I have no choice. My eyelids flutter to him on cue, a pair of eyes watching me from above.
Satisfied, he pins me down, prying my legs farther apart. Shame unfurls, and I try to clamp my knees together, but he shakes his head, then growls until I go limp. “Stop.”
He looks, but the more he stares, the less self-conscious I feel. His gaze sears with the same intensity as his touch, traveling from my heaving chest downward. With every inch gained, his expression changes. Darkens.
“Fuck,” he grates, his throat working to swallow.
His hand slips between my legs again, and another finger eases inside me. Another. He moves them slowly, creating the barest tease of friction.
My breath catches, spine arching.
And he inhales as if empowered by some dark, dangerous secret. “Beg me to fuck you.” There’s no mocking in his tone this time. No game. Just a need to hear it almost as badly as my throat aches to say it.
“Please—”
He rocks forward, slipping his hands beneath my back to draw me close. I bite my lip to silence a cry as my body welcomes him. This time feels so different from the rest. Hotter, as if every touch is scorching. More frantic. Ruthless. Hard. Slow. Everything.
Panting, he lunges against me. Bracing one hand over my headboard, he jolts the entire bed with every thrust. The friction makes my toes curl and thoughts spin. I’m breathless, gripping whatever parts of him I can reach.
Until he turns the tables and flips me over. I’m on top of him before I know it, forced to maintain the tempo on my own. Breathless, I close my eyes as I feel every inch of him thrust in, then ease out as I lift, then lower myself on trembling hands.
He grunts, gripping my hips, biting out curses—and I stop caring about anything but moving. Taking whatever I want from him, however I can.
The pleasure reaches a tipping point and boils over. I slump forward, letting our lips meet, our bodies writhing until we collapse.
It feels like an eternity before I regain my senses enough to rationalize what happened. Justwholies beside me now, his body gloriously bare. One look at his face, and I know my confusion isn’t unique.
“Fuck,” Rafe rasps, his eyes on the ceiling. His hands rake through his hair, his expression puzzled. “Fuck, that was…” He trails off, letting his breathless silence speak for itself.
That was dangerous. Something he didn’t bargain for in the rules of his game. He reacts by withdrawing his arm from around my shoulders. As the seconds pass, I try to imagine what thought has him frowning. What realization makes him look at me and grit his teeth. What makes him switch on a dime, closing me off and turning cold again.
As if to punish me, his hands return to my hair, tugging. Pulling. Petting. I slowly lower my head to his chest, pressing my ear against his flesh, sensing the heartbeat raging beneath.
And I know that seeing this side of him won’t come without a price to pay.
One he’ll demand in full soon enough.
