Page 77 of The Devil Gets His Due

Before I can think of an excuse, his hands are on my hips. “Take off the fucking dress,” he growls. “I want to see.”

That edge in his voice, that barely restrained desire, makes me bolder. Even if I’m not the girl I was last winter, I get the feeling it doesn’t matter to him. That, impossibly, the current version of me is every bit as hot to him as the previous one might have been.

I lift my dress overhead and his eyes fall to my sheer lace bra.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You didn’t return the bra.”

I glare at him. “Are you seriously bitching about my spendingnow?”

He holds my breasts in his hands, as if taking stock of their weight. “No.” He bends lower. “I want you to buy a hundred more.” His mouth closes around my nipple, and I let out a strangled moan.

It hurts and feels amazing in a way it never has before, and I’m not sure if it’s pregnancy or him, or the fact that I haven’t had sex in many, many months, but I’m pretty sure I could come from this alone.

“God, Graham, I want you to never stop doing that.”

He laughs against my skin. “No? You’re sure?” And then one hand is slipping between my legs.

“Oh, maybe not,” I whisper.

My skin is hot. His palm is cool and rough, drawing goose bumps as it slides up, up, up to find me wet, already close to coming.

“Jesus Christ,” he growls. “Get on the bed.”

That he isn’t beingpolite, that he’s simply taking the things he wants, has me clenching, desperate for his fingers…or something else. The second I sit, he’s on his knees, spreading my thighs. He pulls my panties off to the side and then there’s one slow, glorious slide up to my clit, his tongue moving in small tight circles as two fingers push inside me.

“I want you to pull my hair when you come,” he says.

Notifyou come.When.

He’s got not a moment’s doubt about the outcome here, nor do I.

My palm slides into his hair. “God. Keep doing that.”

My panties are removed, and then his flickering tongue becomes harder, more pointed against my swollen clit. His fingers inside me curl inward, and I’m gripping his hair not because he asked but because I’m alreadycloseand he’s barely begun.

“I’ve come a hundred times thinking about this,” he growls against my skin.

Oh God. The idea of him coming while imagining this makes me feel like I’ve just been kicked up another gear.

“Ohhh…that,” I whisper. “With your fingers. That’s—”

He moans, the sound clearly involuntary, and I just explode, throwing my head back, the entire world disappearing. I want to tell him how good this is, how much I needed it, and how badly I want him inside me right now—but all I can do is tug at his hair. “Graham,” I groan, “fuck.”

It’s a long minute before my eyes open and I realize how entirely selfish I’ve been. He has the feral look of someone who’s been pushed too far.

I love it.

“Stand up,” I command, and he does, watching as I tug on his belt and then slide to my knees, pulling his boxers and pants down as I go. He hisses as I take him, swollen and throbbing, in my hand.No wonder I was so sore.

“Jesus, you’re big. It’ll be like trying to put my lips around the head of a Coke can.”

His quiet laugh is cut off by the first flick of my tongue, and as I pull him into my mouth and moan, he stiffens and gasps. “Keeley, stop.”

I release him. “You don’t want me to?”

He winces. “Just the sight of you on your knees asking me that question is enough to make me come.”

“I thought that was the point.”

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