With a pointer finger along her jaw, he turned her head to him and without hesitation, answered. He kissed her as though he meant to devour her soul by that motion alone, deep, firm, andcertain.Not violent—but like a machine. Unwavering. Unyielding.
The fingers he drove up into her body at the same time were the same.
As she cried against his lips, his tongue claimed her mouth.
And pleasure crested over her—a wave of release so unlike anything she’d ever experienced before that she had to throw an arm behind his neck to keep from completely toppling over.
A snarl, deep in his throat, ended in a laugh as he broke the kiss. “My, my…so quickly?”
“Shut up.” She glared at him again. “Don’t tease me.”
“Hardly teasing.” He licked her bottom lip, grinning. “Oh, perhapsa little. I’d say you owe me one, but…you have a matinee tomorrow, and I’d hate to ruin your throat by ravishing it. No, I will have to make my mark on you another way.”
God, she wanted to punch him. But his fingers were still inside her, slowly working inside her, and they were driving hermad.She couldn’t imagine what kind of show she was making for Sherlock.
And her sister.
Fuck.
But Moriarty wasn’t letting her dwell on that thought for long.
There was a chair in line of sight of the window, facing it. She hadn’t noticed it before. His hand moved from around her throat to twist in her hair again, and the one that had been delving into her body left her as he walked to the chair, dragging her along beside him without waiting for her to catch up to his plan.
He sat down first, roughly grabbing her by the hips and swiveling her around so she was facing away from him. She stood there for a moment while she heard him rustle with things, until he pulled her backwards, urging her legs apart. “Sit.”
She obeyed.
“Good girl.”
That…oh, why did that do things to her?
She sat on his lap. His pants were around his ankles. His arms slid around her, and he cupped her breasts, kneading them roughly as he spread his legs, forcing her own legs wide. She was onfulldisplay, now. There was nothing hidden from the view of the window in front of her.
For a moment, she wanted to cover herself with her hands. She clenched her fists.
“You can do this, Sasha. Let go.”
That wasn’t Moriarty’s voice.
That wasVile’s.
Turning her head to look at him, she caught just the barest glimpse of glowing purple in those dark black eyes of the professor.Maybe there was a point to this beyond lust, after all. A reason to surrender to it all.
She let one hand thread into his dark hair and pulled him into a kiss, her other digging her nails into his bare thigh. She wanted him. She wantedthis.When she moved back, he watched her, those eyes of his lidded with lust and need.
Sasha couldn’t help it. “Let’s give them something worthy of an encore…”
The smile that he gave her was positively demonic. Whatever she had done? It had either been the right thing, or the verywrongthing. He lifted her hips, and pulled her back down on him, and sank himself into her to the hilt.
She was an opera singer in this story.
And the note she hit?
Proved it.
But he didn’t let her breathe for long. His hand was around her throat a moment later, restricting her air, as he rutted her like an animal, thrusting into her like the machine she had likened him to earlier. He was unstoppable. Unreasonable.Inhuman.He was going to have from her everything he wanted.
And he wanted it all.
