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“I’m not going to let you come until I say so,” I murmur.
“You’re edging me?” She chuckles and writhes beneath me. Arching, twisting. An undulating goddess. “You really think you can? I’m not easy to get off. I’m not…normal, that way.”
She sounds turned on, and it takes every ounce of willpower I’ve still got left not to unzip my pants and fuck her just like this.
“To within an inch of your life,” I answer.
I toy with her, fingering her first with one digit and then a second one, watching the changes come over her. Aria’s chest heaves, and her eyes roll back, her head tipping. Her moans grow louder and more frequent, her muscles clenching around my finger. I growl through her moan, every sound she makes drawing me closer to the inevitable release. I’m a patient man, and although my skills are a little rusty, I know how to adjust. How to move with a woman’s body and play her the exact way she needs.
“I’ll let you come,” I continue, “if you tell me your connection to Broderick Stevens and what he has to do with my case.”
I pull my finger out and watch her eyes pop open. For a long moment, she stares at me, her mouth working but no words coming out. Finally, she grabs my pillow and smacks me with it.
“You fucking asshole!” she yells.
I laugh, but I’m too late to get out of the way, and the pillow makes contact. “Tell me what I want to know, be a good girl, and I’ll let you come. It’s not a hard concept to get.”
“Fuck you! I can do it myself, then.”
“No, you won’t.” I grasp her wrists and hurl them above her head as she reaches between her legs to complete what I started. “I’m not going to let you.”
“You can’t stop me,” she insists.
“I’ve got two sets of handcuffs in my bedside table, and only one of them is going to be easy to get out of. Now.” I stop, my voice hard. “Which one of them do you want me to use on you?”
TWELVE
aria
What…inthe actual…fuck…just happened?
There is one thing I know with absolute certainty: Blabbing on Broderick will get me killed.
Okay, two things. Because I know that Devan Bishop might be a good cop, but he is an absolute douchebag when it comes to sex. A douchebag and a wizard with his tongue. Shit, does the man tie cherry stems into knots at parties as a trick?
That’s how it felt when he used it on me.
Rather than give him what he wants, I storm out of his place, dragging my pajamas up, feet hardly in my shoes, and fume the entire way home. Once I’m in my apartment, I slam the door with reckless abandon behind me and finally flop down on my bed, screeching into a pillow.
There is something seriously wrong with him.
No, scratch that.
There is something wrong with me because I’d gone to him, and he still toyed with me. I’m definitely the problem here. Why do I want him so badly? Why does it matter to me, even on an infinitesimally small level, that Detective Bishop takes an interest in me for something other than his stupid case?
He’s not going to win. Whatever he thinks he’s up against when it comes to my boss, the reality is much worse than he imagines.
I should just give up. Push him straight out of my mind and go back to Broderick, really focusing on earning his approval and feeling better about myself. Which I’m sure I will once I’m assured of a better position within the Syndicate.
Not like Devan would be able to get me off, anyway. He might have tried and gotten close, but I need pain to come, and it’s not his nature.
I barely slept the rest of the night and somehow managed to carve out an hour or so for myself around sunrise. Much to my surprise, the moment I’d left Devan, stormed out of his house and went back to my place, I still hadn’t been able to come. It’s like my body betrayed me no matter what I told it. I begged it to do what I wanted it to do, give me release.
Nope nothing. Nothing like I wanted, anyway, and all I did was think about Devan.
His skills.
How he refused to let me come but was so quick to force me to go with his ultimatums.
