Page 100 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

Gemma disappears behind the curtain. I wait until she’s gone, then approach the shopkeeper.

“I’d like some privacy.” I press a stack of gold coins into her palm, far more than the dress will cost. “Can you take a long break?”

She glances at the coins, then at me, and nods.

“Of course. I’ll be in the back…. The very back.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

I wait, pulse thrumming. My cock, which has barely softened since this morning, stirs again at the thought of Gemma undressing just feet away.

The curtain sweeps open. She’s wearing deep emerald silk that clings to every curve. The neckline dips low, showing the swell of her breasts. But it’s not the dress that undoes me. It’s the way she looks at herself in the mirror with her eyes bright, cheeks flushed, and a smile tugging at her lips. She’s so fucking adorable my chest cracks open.

I’m done. I’m completely done for this woman.

“This one’s perfect,” she says, smoothing the fabric. “We should go so we’re not late⁠—”

“We’ve got time,” I say, already closing the distance. I take her hand and pull her back into the dressing room. My back hits the wall, and she stumbles against me, her hands landing on my chest. A startled sound slips from her that makes my chest do something stupid.

“Rye—”

“Ryewood.” I cup her face and kiss her, deep and hungry. The kind of kiss that says I’ve been thinking about this all day, because I have.

She melts into me instantly, kissing me back with just as much need. Her hands slide up my chest, gripping the fabric of my shirt, pulling me closer like she can’t get enough.

I groan against her mouth. I want more. I want everything.

She whimpers into my mouth. And fuck, my hands on instinct find her waist, her hips, gathering the silk, dragging it up her thighs because if I don’t touch her right now, I’m going to lose my mind.

She pulls back with a look in her eyes that makes my cock throb and then sinks to her knees.

Fuck. I stop breathing. Stop thinking. Stop everything except staring at her, this gorgeous, devastating woman kneeling before me with that look in her eyes.

Her hand presses against my cock through my trousers, and she strokes me, slow and firm, watching my face the whole time. She’s barely touched me, and I’m already completely fucking gone for her.

Her other hand finds my belt. She works the buckle loose without breaking rhythm, still stroking, still squeezing, still driving me out of my fucking mind. She tugs at the laces, loosening them, her palm never leaving my cock.

Finally, she frees me. I spring out, thick and aching, and I watch her eyes darken as she takes me in.

Her gaze drops to my cock and turns hungry. Then she starts to sink down, her intentions clear.

“No, you don’t—” I rasp, cupping her face, tilting it up before she can reach me. “I have plans, little fox. Plans that involve a lot more of you moaning first.”

Her lips curve into a wicked smile. “Who says I won’t be?”

Before I can stop her, she wraps those perfect lips around my cock.

My vision whites out, and the world tilts. My hand slams against the wall to stay upright. My other hand fists in her hair, and the sound that comes out of me isn’t human.

The wet heat of her mouth is overwhelming. Her tongue works the underside of my cock while she sucks, while she takes me deeper and deeper until I feel myself hit the back of her throat.

She doesn’t gag; she moans.

I see stars. This is bliss. This is torture.

I look down, and the sight nearly ends me. Those perfect lips wrapped around my cock, with those impossible eyes locked on mine. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me. I can see it in the satisfaction in her eyes, the thrill of having me at her mercy.

And I am. Completely. Utterly. At her mercy.