Page 29 of Slay Me

“Do you have any idea, Liv, how many times I’ve jerked off to that mental image? How many times I’ve pumped my cock into my hand, wishing I was buried in your pussy instead? Your mouth? That tight ass?” His finger slides down to my tailbone then stops. All while I silently plead for him to keep going.

My breath hitches. “I don’t—”

“You don’t what?” he interrupts. “I can smell it, you know, your arousal. It’s fucking delicious.”

More turned on than I’ve ever been in my entire life, I turn to face him. “If that’s the case, then why don’t you want me to touch you?”

His grin spreads, a carnal smile that makes the throbbing between my legs unbearable. One touch and I’ll be undone. Shit, a light breeze would do it at this point. “Because I’m a monster, Liv. If I were to have you, no one else would be allowed to. And I won’t condemn us both for a night buried inside of you. No matter how fucking badly I want it.”

Chapter9

Liv

Condemn us both.I really shouldn’t think too strongly on the meaning of those words, but I can’t help it. “Condemn us both? Because you’d get tired of me?”

He snarls. “You will become a weakness for me. And I do not tolerate weakness of any kind. A threat to you will release the beast I’ve managed to keep caged.”

“All because I touch you?”

“My skin is sensitive,” he replies, though he doesn’t elaborate.

I should take what he says and walk away. After all, if all goes well, my time here will be over soon. But my traitorous hands want to touch him so badly they’re shaking. My pulse is pounding in my ears despite the voice in my head telling me to run. That this is not the future I want, the future I have spent years preparing for. “You’ve touched me before.” I reach up and brush my fingers to my throat. “You just did.”

“With a barrier,” he replies, lifting his gloved hand. “Touching your skin with mine—it would be a mistake. I am not a man who makes mistakes.”

“I won’t touch your skin,” I reply. “Give me your gloves.”

He shakes his head. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Then let’s find out.” I hold out my hand.

His piercing gaze never leaves mine. “You can’t do this.”

“I can leave,” I tell him, taking a step closer. “Or you can let me touch you.”

Brows furrowed, he glares down at me. “Why?”

I run my tongue over my bottom lip. “Because I’m curious.” I tell myself it’s a way to gain his trust, which will give me an opportunity to escape. I try to convince myself that doing this means using him to free myself. Telling myself these things makes it easier because it’s the only thought process that justifies my desire in my mind. Simply wanting to touch him, despite the fact that I hate being touched outside of the ring, is irrational. Emotional. Two things that landed me here in the first place.

“Give me your gloves. Unless you have a spare pair?”

He doesn’t make a move. Doesn’t say a word. Just continues to stare at me, clearly battling with himself over what the right move is. Finally, he grips the tip of a finger and pulls a glove off then offers it to me.

My fingers brush his still-gloved hand as I take the free one, and he lets his uncovered hand fall to the side. The glove is huge compared to my hand, but that doesn’t matter. Not now.

Hand shaking, I press my palm to his chest. His lips part, and he drops his chin down and lets out a tortured sigh. The power I feel now, knowing my touch quiets him this way, is far more potent than anything I ever felt while on the lyra.

But I don’t stop there. Running my hand over his broad chest, sliding it down over the ribbed muscle of his abdomen, I explore every inch of his torso. My gaze moves to the scales, so I move my hand to the left and then over the scales.

They shimmer beneath my touch, causing a low growl to rumble through his chest. Still, I want more. Telling myself it’s all about distraction, I turn and lean back against him. The bodysuit I wear puts a barrier between us, but it’s not much. The heat of his body burns me, searing the flesh beneath my costume.

And somehow, it’s still not enough.

He snakes his only still-gloved hand around and presses against my belly. The Ringmaster holds me tightly, pinning me to his body. A soft moan slips past my lips.

Having him this close eases my anxiety. It erases the dark memories always lurking in my mind. Until all I can think about is him. I arch my back, pressing my ass against his hard length. “Oh,” I whisper as I close my eyes, careful to keep my head forward even though I want nothing more than to arch back against him completely.

It’s beenyearssince I was touched by a man outside of the ring. Years since I wanted to be touched.

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