Page 51 of Bared Betrayal
“Look at me, Kallie.”
I don’t obey. This isn’t Myth, and we aren’t playing. At least I’m not.
“I said look at me.” He takes my chin between his fingers, forcing my gaze to meet his. “Should I make you show me how much you need me right now?”
He lowers his hand, and I whimper as he starts to trace the outline of my breasts with his finger—slow, delicate circles.
“Would it appease you if I force you to come right now without making a sound?”
Raw desire flares between my legs, slick and wet. “No.”
“You know what that word does to me,” he rasps, and I clench my thighs, thinking of his cock swollen with need, how he can shatter me into a million pieces while he’s inside me.
He takes my wrist and places my hand on his cock, squeezing my palm against his hard length. “You feel what you do to me whenever you’re near?”
My pussy clenches as fire and passion begin to consume me, my body slowly being wrapped in a heat that can’t be stopped—not until it gets what it wants. Him. Us. Complete submission.
With slow, leisurely movements, he starts to gather the skirt of my dress in his hand, rolling it upward, fingers brushing against the skin of my thighs, leaving a trail of flames in its wake.
I bite my lower lip when he gently presses against my clit through my panties. Our gazes are locked, our breathing heavy and in tandem now as I stroke him, and he strokes me, a volcano of wrongs threatening to erupt.
“Gabriel, we can’t do this here.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he growls and yanks my panties, twisting them, pulling the fabric as if it’s made of paper, ripping them away with ease. “You think this is a game to me? That I like lusting after my son’s fiancée?” He slides a single digit through my slit, both of us aware of how wet I am. “I watched him kiss you,” he murmurs and pushes a finger inside me, causing me to whimper. “I watched you kiss him back, and the whole time I kept asking myself, does she like kissing my son?”
My breathing becomes labored, my chest rising and falling.
“Does she like being touched by him? Fucked by him?”
“Gabriel—”
With a snarl, he grabs my throat with his other hand. “What do you call me?”
I swallow hard, my body climbing fast as his fingers work my pussy.
“What do you—” he squeezes hard “—call me?”
“Sir,” I whisper.
“Good girl.”
He easily slides a second finger inside me and pushes it in so deep it hurts—a pain so fucking beautiful it consumes me. Lowering his head, he nestles his face into my neck as if he, too, is in agony. “Tell me you’ve never been this wet for him,” he breathes against my skin. “Tell me this tight pussy is mine, that it weeps just for me.”
I reach to the side, wrapping my fingers around the rail, my body moving in the rhythm of his fingers fucking me.
“Say it, Kallie. Admit my touch is what you crave. That your flesh burns for my whip.”
“Oh, God,” I whimper, thinking of the exquisite pain he can give me.
“I want to make you come.” His lips brush across my skin, his velvet tongue lapping my flesh. “I need to see your face when you come for me.”
“No,” I breathe out, this time because I mean it. I think I do. I don’t know. I want to come, but it can’t be him. Not again. It’s too much. Too strong. Too wrong.
“Come for me, baby girl.”
“No.” This time I say it louder, and a low growl tears from his throat as he flexes hard against me, pressing his cock against my hip, tightening his hand around my throat and forcing my face up with his thumb below my jaw, and all I see are the stars above us. Bright, beautiful, unending.
“I said come, goddamn you, woman.” His teeth sink into my shoulder, causing a blissful burst of pain that annihilates my self-control and forces pleasure through my blood. My lips part, and I know I’m about to cry out. I can’t stop it. I don’t know how. People will hear.Oh, God.
