AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I pause, my fingers gripping the bedspread until my knuckles cramp. “This feels like a conversation I shouldn’t be naked for.”
“Put your fingers back on your pussy and show me what you think of the shit they say about your husband.” Licking his lips, Kal moves forward to kneel on the bed with one leg. His arm lashes out, grabbing my wrist, and uncurling each individual finger from the sheet.
“I don’t even know my husband,” I snap, trying to twist out of his grip. The arousal I was feeling minutes ago evaporates as his agitation manifests in his sharp tone, and in its place is the need to fight.
Baring my teeth, I rear my free hand back, sending it sailing through the air at his face.
Stupid, really. Kal catches my hand before it even makes contact; he wrenches the one holding the sheet behind my back, trapping it between us, then brings my other hand up to his lips.
“You know more than you let on,” he replies, taking my index and middle fingers and separating them from the rest. Sucking on the two digits, he laves his tongue over them without breaking eye contact, and it sends a renewed ripple of awareness through me, making my toes curl of their own accord.
Betraying body syndrome, Mamá once called it. When you’re powerless to carnality, despite your mind knowing better. She’d been trying to comfort me before my wedding to Mateo, saying that as long as he made it good for me, my body would learn to enjoy it.
The mind, she mused, was a different battlefield entirely, but one she swore could eventually be conquered, citing her own success in the matter.
Problem was, I already knew what it felt like to want your lover, and there was no chance Mateo would have ever compared.
Even now, as I try to brush off my body’s reaction as biology, I know her reasoning isn’t entirely true. My body isn’t betraying me at all; I just wish it were.
It’d certainly make all of this easier.
Wrapping my fingers in his fist, he brings my hand back to the apex of my thighs, ghosting them over my seam. My hips jerk into the motion, and he smirks, nostrils flaring.
“So?” he taunts, raising an eyebrow, forcing my fingers to swirl gently around my clit. My breath catches, and he leans into it, bending so we’re eye level. “What else do you know about me, little one?”
My head grows heavy in this position, pain lancing through the muscles in my neck; I let it fall back as the pleasure singing in my veins intensifies, making my legs shake.
“You’re thirty-two with a Halloween birthday. You like reading poetry and memoirs, though you don’t write at all. You got your medical degree from Tufts and did your residency at Johns Hopkins.”
He makes a sound, but I can’t tell if he’s impressed or bored by my recitation of his sparse Wikipedia page. Outside of it, I don’t actually know that much about him, except that he’s a danger I’ve never been able to resist.
“Did you know that just before you met me in my office downstairs, I’d just gotten done killing a man?” Kal whispers, his hot breath skimming my face. I can barely focus on his words, though, too lost in the sensation of him guiding my fingers, creating magic between my thighs.
“That’s why there was blood on my clothes. I know you noticed; saw the flash of distress in those tantalizing eyes of yours, then watched your concern drain when you decided you cared more about getting off than what I do in my spare time.”
Releasing the arm twisted behind my back, he palms my shoulder, shoving me so I’m flush with the mattress. He still puppeteers my fingers, switching the motion to a counterclockwise rotation that has me drawing my lip between my teeth to keep from crying out.
“You’ve never cared what people thought of me, have you?” he asks. “Didn’t care about the souls I’ve stolen, or the lives ended at my bare hands.”
I feel his fingers drift over the scar on my thigh, then back up, circling my entrance. The tip of one breaches me just slightly, eliciting a soft gasp from my chest.
My stomach churns, something feral burgeoning inside me as the truth in his words soaks into my skin, furthering my chase for release.
I don’t care about the lives he’s ended. That’s always been my problem.
“Someone is watching us,” he says, setting off red flags in my mind. My eyes widen, searching for him, but in the same second he plunges three fingers inside of me, stealing the words from my tongue.
I moan as he curls them against my inner walls, teasing and massaging as he distracts me.
“I have a feeling it might be your father. I’m just not entirely sure why.”
My hand starts to pull away as his words penetrate my hazy brain, but he smacks the inside of my thigh, and I jolt from having the sensitive flesh there brutalized.
“I didn’t tell you to stop.” He starts to move his fingers quicker, shallow thrusts that have me canting my hips up, silently pleading for more. “If he wants to watch, we’re going to give him a show.”
The notion should give me pause, or make me recoil in horror, but it doesn’t. An invisible fire ignites in my core, spreading like a fever throughout my body, settling in my bones.
