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I don’t know where the idea came from. Maybe the hot green gaze that followed my every movement but couldn’t actually touch me. Only it felt like a touch; I swear it had both weight and heat. And I suddenly thought, why not do the touching for him?
So everywhere he looked, my hands followed. He caught on to the game fast; I guess there’s not many that an incubus doesn’t know. But it seemed that I’d picked one he liked, because his gaze fairly sizzled over my skin.
Here a finger followed a collarbone, causing me to remember how he’d once traced it with his tongue. There a bead of sweat rolled down the valley of my sternum, only to get trapped by my naval as I undulated above him. Here I steadied myself with hands on his chest, stroking hard pecs and straining abs for a moment before removing them again, because I never said I couldn’t touch. There I cupped my breasts—
And Pritkin’s eyes flashed purely black for a second.
Ahh, I thought so. He’d always liked my breasts, even when we were pretending to hate each other. I’d had to quit wearing a certain tank top, which was cut slightly lower and was slightly thinner than my other ones, because he’d stop interacting with me at all when I had it on. Other times he’d made comments I’d brushed off at the time, but seeing the heat in that gaze, I was pretty sure they’d been deliberate.
Let’s test a theory, I thought, and brushed my nipples playfully with my thumbs. He made a noise from somewhere lower than his chest that resonated through me, making me bite my lip. And tighten around him for a moment, before remembering who was supposed to be in charge here. And then I did it again, and again, until I was straight up playing with them, until they were rosy pink and fully erect and I was pulling sound after sound out of him, until he was trying to come off the bed and I was having to grind my knees down to keep him in place.
Until the game had turned into something else entirely.
I stared down at him, quietly amazed by the look in his eyes, the one I’d never thought I’d see. The naked hunger, the raw desire, and something else that made my stomach twist and my heart clench. And my body flash hot and liquid and strangely bold.
I finished off with a butterfly brush of fingertips, like lips on my skin, down, down, down to where our bodies met and merged. But I wasn’t watching me; I was watching him. And the fascinating way his eyes got darker and darker, until I wasn’t sure if they were deep jade or pure black.
They stared at me as if he wasn’t sure he knew me anymore, and maybe he was right. I felt different, bolder, exhilarated, a little crazy. Maybe because I was moving easily now, riding him hard, sending pulses of pleasure through me and wringing out more of those sounds he kept making.
It was like the reverse of the touching game, like he was vocalizing for me. A shudder tore through me, but came out of his lips. A pulse of pleasure almost threw me off my rhythm, and he groaned in sympathy. My breath started coming faster, shallower, but he was the one panting.
A girl could get addicted to this, I thought dizzily.
“Cassie—” he finally gasped.
I tossed my hair saucily, and didn’t answer.
“Cassie.” It had been pleading a moment ago. Now it was an order.
I grinned; too bad I don’t take orders.
“Cassie—” It was desperate, hoarse and strained, and cords were standing out on the heavily muscled arms, as if he was having to grip the bed to stay still.
“One more minute,” I told him, and watched him shiver.
And defy me, although I’m not sure he knew it. The eyes were a little crazed, and he’d started bucking up to meet me, making me feel like I was an actual cowgirl, riding a barely controlled beast. A big one, with rough hands that freed themselves and then slid up my sides to grip bouncing softness, gently at first and then hard enough to bruise, although I was past caring.
Way past.
All I needed was a hat to wave around, I thought, feeling a strange urge to laugh.
Until I looked down at Pritkin’s face. He’d been laughing, too, a few moments ago, or as close to it as he ever got, joking and playful, almost like the boy he’d once been. But now, there was something leaking through the cracks, something he couldn’t seem to control. Something raw and real and—I didn’t know.
I wanted to see more of that look, wanted to see how
far it went, wanted to know what he might be hiding in there. I wanted to see that perfect stoicism ruined and smoking on the ground. I wanted to see him laid bare as I was, as I had been when I sobbed in his arms. Not to hurt him but to heal.
Because whatever I had pent up inside me, Pritkin had far, far more.
But this wasn’t the time. Today wasn’t about reliving trauma, even to ease it. Today wasn’t about lessons to be learned or trials to be overcome. Today was about rediscovering pleasure, about ending a century-old fast, about the end of a very long road.
Today was about love.
“Now,” I said softly, bending over him—
And was on my back before I could blink, momentarily breathless from a move he made that shot sparks straight up my spine.
A purely wicked face looked down at me, flushed and panting and sweaty and strained, but wearing the tiniest of evil grins.
