Page 102 of Lethal Attraction

Everything is making my head swim—the pressure from her above, the look in her eyes that makes me weak in the knees, and her heat.

“Do you understand?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

My cock is aching now, pressing against the zipper of my jeans, and the friction of her weight is doing nothing to help. “Yes, Little Devil.”

“Good boy.”

She releases one of my wrists—the left one—and reaches down between us. Her fingers work the button of my jeans with practiced efficiency. The sound of my zipper is obscenely loud in the quiet forest.

Then her hand is inside my boxers, and I forget how to breathe.

Her palm is calloused and warm. She wraps her fingers around my shaft and squeezes—not gently, but with the same deliberate pressure she’s using on my wrist.

Ownership.

“You’re leaking already,” she observes, her thumb spreading the bead of moisture at the tip. “We’ve barely started.

“I’m—ah—” She strokes once, slow and tight, and my sentence dissolves into a gasp.

“What was that?” she asks, her tone mock-innocent.

“I’ve been hard,” I force out. “For the last hour.”

Another stroke; her hand twisting at the head. “Aw, are you going to whimper for me?”

My hips buck desperately. She laughs, low and dark, and presses her free hand flat against my chest to hold me still.

“Look at me,” she commands.

Her eyes are nearly black in the moonlight now, with her pupils blown wide. Her lips are parted on her ragged, heavy breaths. On the surface, she looks calm, but I know her tells—the slight tremor in her thighs, the flush creeping up her throat—and they make my heart hammer harder.

She wants this as much as I do.

“Thalia,” I breathe. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Touch me. More. I need—”

Her hand tightens. “You need?”

The words don’t come. She strokes again, faster now, and my thoughts scatter. All I can do is stare up at her—this woman who could kill me in a dozen ways but chooses instead to reduce me to gasping syllables.

“You’re beautiful like this,” she says, and her voice has lost its teasing edge. “Under me and desperate. Like you belong here, Reed.”

She shifts backward, releasing my cock with a final, lingering squeeze that makes me groan in protest.

“Don’t worry.” She stands towering over me. The moonlight silhouetting her. “I’m not done with you.”

Her hands go to her tactical pants as her thin fingers work quickly. She pulls the button free in one smooth motion and lets it drop to the pine needles.

“You wanted to chase me,” she whispers, stepping out of the pants. “You wanted to catch me. But this—this—is what you really wanted, isn’t it? To be caught and taken.”

She kneels again, straddling me. The heat of her wet pussy slides over me, making my hands shoot to her hips as I grind against her desperately.