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Tempest shivers, shaking her head. “No…”
“I’ll find it, little hurricane,” I growl quietly.
“I didn’t?—”
“I’ll findeverylittle thing you’ve ever hidden. Every stolen thought. Every buried secret.”
Tempest whimpers so deeply it’s almost a moan. Her body shudders against mine, her chest rising and falling as my finger teases just underneath her breasts.
Then my hand slips lower.
And lower.
Andlower, teasing over the soft skin of her stomach as it caves under my touch.
“Where is it, Tempest,” I murmur.
Her eyes bulge wide, her jaw dropping and falling open as my fingertips brush the lacy edge of her panties. I swear to fuck, I can feel the heat of her pussy even from here. Feel the way herbody clenches and tenses, and the way her skin hums beneath my touch.
“If you don’t want to tell me,” I murmur, my mouth inches from her lips, “then I suppose I’ll be forced to fuckingfind it myself.”
Tempestmoans, loud, when my hand crosses the final barrier between us and slips into her lacy panties. My fingers delve deep between her legs, and I growl when I feel exactly how fuckingsoakedshe is.
Silky-soft petal lips open at my touch. Slickness coats my fingers as I drag them up through her seam and roll one over her throbbing clit.
“Where have you hidden it, little thief,” I murmur an inch from her quivering mouth. “Maybe it’s inhere…”
I sink two fingers into her in one thrust, gritting my teeth and feeling my dick throb at the insane tightness of her. Her silky walls and sticky heat envelop me and suck my fingers deeper, greedily. Her eyes fly open as the moan she’s fucking powerless to stop comes pouring out of her mouth.
My fingers curl deep, stroking in and out against her g-spot as my palm grinds against her needy clit. I push against her, pinning her to the desk, caught between my hand and my throbbing cock against her ass.
“I’ll find it, Tempest,” I growl, my fingers stroking in and out over and over. Her legs begin to tremble, and when her mouth falls open in a wail of pleasure, I start to finger her even harder and faster.
“…And if I don’t, I’ll take your fuckingcumall over my fingers as collateral until I do.”
Her legs buckle and her eyes roll back in her head as she clings to the desk with white knuckles, her nails digging into the wood. Her stomach clenches and ripples, her cunt greedily clamping tighter around my fingers as I fuck her with them.
“Oh my fucking God…”
“You can call me whatever you want, little hurricane,” I rasp right at her lips. “But youwillfucking come all over my hand right the fuck now.”
Her body goes rigid, her legs clamping tight together as a moan of pure release explodes from her mouth.
…Right as I slam mine to hers and swallow every decibel of it.
There’s no walking back from this edge now.
13
TEMPEST
What exactly areyou supposed to feel on your wedding day? I have zero idea.
I was never one of those girls that thought about that—dreaming of Ken or Prince Charming, and poofy white princess weddings, even when I was little. Maybe it started with losing our parents. Maybe it got worse when Layla died.
Or maybe I was just born without that gene that yearns for a fairytale.
As of a few months ago, Idefinitelystopped believing in fairytales. That included dreaming about a wedding day I knew was never going to come.
