Page 88 of Brutal Devil
Like the next sip of air.
Like the sun rising in the morning and the stars dazzling in their brilliance at night.
Elemental, inevitable,essential.
I must have more of her. All of her. And in the same way, she needs that from me. Together, we’re on fire.
I flick my tongue over a hard, pink nipple and can’t tamp down the thrill rising inside me at her response. She arches into me, grabbing a handful of my hair with desperate intent, and holds me there. I oblige her by licking slow, delicious circles around the peak before latching on to her nipple and sucking in earnest.
Her feet leave the bottom of the pool as a lusty sigh escapes her. She’s floating now, completely at my mercy, her thighs around my waist. I find her other breast and suck hard, then nip at the tightly furled bud. She moans my name, wrapping around me like a mermaid. If she’s here to take me down, I’ll gladly sink to the bottom with her.
Just as long as she never stops touching me the way she is now.
One hand on my shoulder, her nails digging into my skin, the other in my hair, telling me without words what she wants.
“I’m so mad at you,” she murmurs breathlessly.
Her desperate determination to cling to her defiance, even in the wake of her own desire, just makes my dick even harder. I’m probably leaking pre-come into the pool right now, but I don’t even care. I’ll tell Roc to throw in extra chlorine tomorrow when my balls are drained and I’m once again capable of rational thought.
“Let me see how mad you are,” I taunt, my fingers skipping down her body, over her belly, the luscious curve of her waist, the swell of her hip.
And then lower, to the left. I cup her pussy with my right hand and catch a nipple in my teeth, tugging hard, pressing her into the tiled pool wall with nothing more than my hand on her.
I’m not stroking, not fingering. Just staking my claim.
Her breathing is ragged. She whimpers. I have her, and she knows it.
We both do.
I release her nipple and straighten, holding her stare while I slowly, slowly stroke over her swollen clit with my thumb as I continue cupping her.
“You don’t feel that mad right now, Luna Andriani,” I whisper. “Do you know what youdofeel like?”
She tips her head, her dark, wet hair falling beautifully down her back, a lone tendril sticking to her cheek. I don’t think she’s ever been more gorgeous than she is in this moment, naked in the water, everything she wants from me written on her face.
She licks her lips. In the low light of the pool room, her eyes are almost onyx, glinting and glittering with the same feverish desire that boils unchecked through my veins.
“I hope I feel like I’m furious,” she murmurs. “Because I am.”
“No.” I kiss her nipple, the curve of her breast, increasing my pressure on her clit, my other fingers tracing her lips, finding her entrance. “You feel like fucking mine.”
She inhales sharply and stiffens in my arms with a little cry.
It takes me a second to realize that she came. She came with nothing more than my thumb pressing on her clit and my fingers gliding through her slit, making shallow dips into her pussy. But I don’t have long to revel in my triumph.
Because in the next moment, she shocks me utterly.
She goes from soft and complacent in my arms, the tremors of her orgasm shuddering through her, to a wildcat. She’s all nails and fury, scraping my chest and shoving me away from her, diving under the water and swimming away.
“Fuck,” I mutter, watching her hair cascading behind her as she moves beneath the water.
Admiring the play of light on her sleek body.
Until I realize she’s gained the upper hand when I badly need to maintain it.
I dive below the pool’s surface, chasing her. My eyes are open as I glide toward her, catching up even as her arms and legs thrash, moving her through the water as fast as she can go.
I’m faster.
