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“And how did that work out for you?” he asks.
I think of the door he kicked in, the locks that’ll need tending tomorrow. It’s half the reason I asked him to stay.
“It didn’t. But...”
His tongue darts over the edge of my ear, and I lose the fight with a moan.
“Tell me,” he commands.
Admitting that I wanted him to be watching, and that it’s the reason the blinds were open, gives him too much power. So, I bite my tongue and shake my head.
His massive hand reaches up through the darkness, wrapping around my throat and pinning me to the bed. Just as every other time he’s touched me, my nipples bead, and my core pounds with thrill.
“Tell me,” he demands in a deeper, more threatening tone.
“I wanted you to come for me,” I say, aching at the admission.
“Did you now?” he says, tone turning rueful. “And why is that, little phoenix?”
When his tongue finds my jawline, slithering up my face menacingly, my entire body shudders.
“I—I don’t know,” I wail.
“Mmm, I think you do. Tell me, little one, are you afraid? I do so love the taste of fear.”
My mouth gapes open, but I manage to keep my reaction soundless.
“I’m not afraid of what you’ll do to me,” I tell him.
When I turn my face towards him, his hand allows the movement, slipping under the covers.
My eyes fight to find his in the dark. “I’m only afraid of what you’ll deny me.”
When his lips find mine, the world tilts. Somewhere in hell, Lucifer is clapping at two damaged souls that’ve finally found one another in a world he created. One full of pain, anguish, and misery. For when two inky souls find one another, nothing can hurt them anymore, and the dark lord is who they now answer to.
Who we answer to.
Gage is depravity made flesh, and I don’t fucking care. For so long I’ve been a ghost, a walking illusion no one stopped to try to see. I’ve been a dull shade of grey. But when he touches me, when he breaks into my house and defends me, when he kisses me like I’m the breath that will keep him alive, I’m a bright rouge.
I turn into him, and his wandering hand finds the heat between my thighs after yanking up the thin dress I’d worn to bed.
Our tongues sway and twirl, each of us swallowing the others moans and pleasure-filled breaths. I grind against the hand he’s pressing through the front of my panties.
“Very needy this evening, aren’t you, little one?” he asks, breaking from my lips and earning himself a whimper for the loss.
“Please, Gage,” I beg, and he growls at the use of his name.
I still don’t know if that is his true name. But I don’t care. The only thing I care about is leaving the fantastical world I’ve stepped into where I’m the focus of a who-done-it case, and gaining more soft touches, more kisses. More.
“Fuck, you don’t belong with someone like me, Carina,” he breathes, removing his hand from center and lying on his back, thrusting his hands inside his hair.
No!
For a moment, I try to come back to reality. Because I can’t think with his hands on me. Not coherently.
“Why? I’m just like you,” I tell him breathlessly, grasping at straws. Ones that’ll make him come back.
It’s the lust talking. But I don’t care. I need him.
