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“Are you wet for me, too?”
Soaked. I bite my lip, torn between insisting that he can’t touch me there and begging him to.
Marrok gathers my skirt in one meaty fist and hikes it to my waist.
“Don’t,” I moan.
He ignores me and slides his fingers into my panties. “Your cunt is drenched.”
It is. Even as my eyes slide shut in shame, my body tightens in need. Why can’t I stop reacting to him? “Marrok…”
“Are you begging me to let you go? Or to give you what your body craves?”
“I don’t know.” The truth slips out.
“I do.” His thick fingers settle between my folds, then lazily circle my throbbing clit.
My knees buckle. Desire overtakes my brain.
I’ve never been so aroused in my life.
“After I give you a hard fucking, will you release me, Morgana? Surely, you have grown weary of toying with me. Or does it thrill you to know you affect me more than ever?”
When Marrok talks like that, I should be terrified out of my mind. But I’m not. His fingers on my clit threaten to dismantle me. I’m a shaking, gasping mess.
Damn it, I need to quit melting, banish my urges, and take control.
“Have you naught to say? Or are you too busy gloating because I want you even as I hate you?”
Repeating the fact I’m not Morgana won’t get me anywhere. But Marrok’s words and the footlong carving of an angel inches from my fingertips give me a new idea.
I’ll seduce him. I’ll surrender to our baffling connection—just until he lets his guard down. When he’s distracted, I’ll whack him on the head and escape.
As schemes go, it’s hasty and probably insane. But what are my better options? Appealing to his goodwill? His sanity? I have to get free before I succumb to him, before he consumes me, body and soul.
Trying not to think about the fact I’m playing head games with a madman, I draw in a bracing breath, drop my purse, and part the shredded edges of my blouse as I turn in his arms.
The sight catches him off guard. He freezes, except for his rough breaths.
I jockey closer, clandestinely dislodging Marrok’s nimble fingers from between my legs. I should be able to think now…except his sizable cock still nudges my belly. His gaze on my nipples feels as tangible as his touch.
He fuses his stare to mine and delves deep until I’m breathless. Until I can’t look away.
I shiver at the intimacy. The mystifying connection between us is even stronger.
I’ve only ramped up the danger.
Even with a sane man, I would be afraid to indulge chemistry this intense, especially since I have no experience with sex. With touch at all. Mom always socially distanced from me, even before that was a thing. Everyone else followed suit.
Marrok wanting me—even for revenge—is a miracle. And a shameful thrill. Weird vibe aside…I love his hands on me.
Would it be so bad if you gave in?
Yes. I’m not desperate enough to toss away my V-card on a guy who doesn’t even know me, who only wants to use me.
But I would be using him, too. For experience. For pleasure. For escape.
I throw myself at Marrok and rub against him, feeling giddy when he groans and fists my hair. “Is wanting me so terrible?”
