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I grip the backs of her thighs, spreading her legs a bit, and get her to the edge again. Before she comes, I snap my fingers, and the sound echoes. She arches with a scream of pleasure, fighting to clamp down on my face, but I hold firm.
“Oh God, oh God,” she whimpers, shaking with every extra pass on her clit.
If we didn’t have somewhere else to be tonight, I’d keep her in this post orgasm torment state for much, much longer. Until she came again and again.
Unfortunately, that’ll have to wait.
I lean back and give her inner thigh a kiss before standing and adjusting my throbbing dick.
She gasps breaths, head falling back against the mirror as she still holds the skirt. The pose, the wetness running down her thigh, the shaking muscles, the flushed skin…
Fucking hell, every image of her is an inspiration. I’m already seeing my next exhibit.
I fix my jacket and take one of her hands so the skirt floats back down.
“Shoes, now, little one.”
She nods, making an unintelligible sound and stumbles after me.
I lead us to the designer shoe wall, grab a pair of low-heels, rip off the tags and settle her feet in them, one at a time. She braces on my shoulder, limbs in that Jell-O state that proves I did my job right.
“There we are. Now, Ms. Parker,” I step back and offer her my elbow, “would you do me the honor of being my date for the evening?”
Though I’d meant it to be amusing, the worddatemakes my stomach flip. Just one more mundane thing I want with her that I never wanted before.
Her cheeks blaze pink again, her lip disappearing under her teeth for a second before she gifts me with the most beautiful smile I think the world has ever seen.
She hooks her dainty arm through mine and squeezes. “I’d like that, Mr. Saint.”
21
LUCY
Walkingbackto Vie De Mort is far more tiresome than walkingfromVie De Mort. Not because my muscles are still sore from my walk or Damian’s attack, and not even from the sweet kitten heels Ghost picked out.
But damn, how many times can he make my body sing before it goes flat hoarse?
I’m interested in finding out. I’m interested in finding out a lot of things about his life, but the hits just keep coming. The dark is a weird place to be, when the sharks are circling and I don’t even know if we’re on a beach, an island, or in the water with them.
He becomes more and more dangerous by the minute. I keep waiting for the surprise, the ice of reality to come after me. Maybe guilt, or enough confidence rebuilt to call my step-dad and beg him to come get me.
I miss him. But, I don’t want to leave. I’m not afraid. The more times Ghost’s life morphs like a demon unhinged in front of me, all snapping teeth and smoking breath, the more I want to reach out and pet it.
He’s my Hades, my dark angel of death, stealing me away from everything I knew. I should be scared. I should be running as far and as fast as I can, but instead, I bring my flowers and light and life and lay them at his feet.
I’d sooner die than turn my back on him now.
Though, I will need to find a way to wring more pleasure out of him. He’s just walking around, straight-faced, handling his arousal like it’s not suffocating him. Like he doesn’t have someone right beside him who would willingly accept any sexual frustrations he wants to release.
Just ridiculous.
I don’t complain on our walk back, though. I’ll think of something for him later, some little ways to coax him into leaning on me. Later. When my mind isn’t as frayed as my bones.
His stress is fleeting, I think. At least enough that I’m convinced it’s not me he’s afraid of, but how he feels. And I can’t say I’m not in the same boat.
“You,” he says contemplatively as we stop in front of the door, “would look absolutely ravishing in a blindfold.” He gives me a little spin, one of many twirls he’s sent me in on our walk, and beams like the cat that ate the canary when I giggle.
My breath catches, and I suck my lip between my teeth. “Yeah?”
