Page 102 of Trick

As for the rest, alas. I didn’t give a shit.

I moved nearer, fusing us together, my pulse on hers. “Dance with me.”

Her gaze clung to mine, anchoring there. “We already did.”

“Nay, sweeting. We haven’t.”

Not the way I intended.

She kept still, trembling as if on a precipice, expecting to be caught. And oh, but I would catch her. This woman didn’t know the half of it.

We waited until the other was ready to move, and move we did. Our arms and hands reached with prolonged urgency, the backs of my knuckles gliding down her arms and landing on her hips, where I clutched Briar—and yanked her into me.

She gasped, mouth ajar. Her eyelids hooded, the pupils flashing as our groins met, the heat between her legs brimming against my cock.

Briar clamped onto my forearms as I guided her waist, swaying it from side to side in a languid tempo, as if a stringed instrument strained through the room. With serpentine motions, I jutted us together, our foreheads bent and brushing.

At length, her fingers relaxed and scaled my biceps. I rolled us into a single form, rotating our pelvises into a gentle grind. A mesmerizing flush unfurled across her lips, yet her figure went shamelessly slack, molding with mine.

With each lazy beat of my waist, she followed. No sequence of steps. No structure. Only instinct and reflexes as my fingers descended to her ass, cupping the swells.

A small whimper eased from her mouth, as thin as a tendril. And I swore, it took everything in me not to drive my lips against hers and claim that sound.

I prowled after her in a different way. Twisting her hips, I whirled Briar around, her back sliding against my ribs, her spine aligning with my torso. As I did this, my quick fingers unhooked her cloak in one seamless gesture that blended with the dance.

The mantle spilled to the floor. Like this, I captured her middle and pinned her to my front whilst continuing the sinuous movements.

Briar’s profile turned, as if yearning to glimpse me over her shoulder. Yet her eyes didn’t make it that far, straying instead to ground. Her skin hummed beneath my touch, and her fingers moved of their own volition, reaching behind on instinct to clutch my nape.

I snaked my fingers over her navel and whisked us into a leisurely, sultry tempo. Her head lolled on my shoulder as I tilted my jaw and nipped her earlobe.

My sweet thorn shivered. The noise was like a spike of adrenaline, inciting a hot spike below my waist.

The dance intensified, as though rising in temperature. We held tighter, our movements growing more exaggerated, each of us tugging on the other.

I spun her toward me again, and before we’d finished the full rotation, her hands drew the sheer shirt from the waistband of my pants. But before she could peel it over my head, I prolonged the frustration. Looping one arm around Briar’s lower back, I gave her no warning, dipping her into an arc.

Briar’s intakes hitched. Yet she stretched into it, trusting me as I unspooled her backward, my free digits plucking the upper clasps of her bodice open. The fabric eased halfway down her stomach, a riot of freckles and her embroidered breastband peeking from the neckline, the tops of those precious tits pushing upward.

I could drag the undergarment lower, strap my mouth around a pert, rough nipple, and listen to a moan crack from her lips. The thought watered my tongue. By the time we were finished with each other, I would do that and more.

But not yet. This jester would draw out the pleasure until it devastated her.

Summoning my willpower, I reeled Briar upright. Along the way, my mouth skated up the vent of her bodice, between those vicious breasts and to her neck, where I sucked the skin between my teeth. She whined, the fluted sound rippling into the air.

My low growl muffled into her throat. In a slick maneuver as she careened upright, I grabbed the backs of her thighs and hoisted her off the ground. The skirt flared over her knees, and her legs twined around my hips, ankles linking above my ass.

I swerved us toward the nearest wall. Her back hit the facade, my waist pinning her as we panted and coiled into movement, fluctuating against the wood paneling, swiveling heavily against it. One capped sleeve flopped down her shoulder. Her breasts swept across my chest, the thin breastband grazing my transparent shirt and creating anarchy against my flesh.

I traced my lips along her jaw. She bowed into me.

As if part of the dance, her hands snatched the hem of my shirt and lifted. Except I caught Briar’s wrists and nailed her arms above her head. We undulated into the wall, churning whilst I gripped her.

That heady gaze sparked, my denial enticing and irritating the princess.

Good. Very good.

To atone for that, my fingers opened, eventually releasing her wrists. Every time Briar attempted to pare the shirt from me, I twirled and switched our positions. Me, against the wall. Then her again. Then me once more. It became a game, a tease. And eventually, her mouth quirked into a faint grin, which I mirrored with a smirk.

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