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A breathy moan escapes as she arches her back, her nipples desperately seeking friction from her blouse, and my heart crashes against my chest wall at the erotic sight.
The stirring notes of the cello float to the terrace to rouse, and her body is possessed as she yields to the desire. It takes all my willpower to harness a fraction of self-control, to stop myself from fisting my hand in her hair and bending her over the rail and fucking her like her needy little cunt is begging to be fucked.
“Dammit, tell me what terrifies you, Halen,” I demand.
Her whimper sets my blood aflame, the sensual roll of her hips pure torture as she salaciously rubs along my cock. My unfastened buckle snags on her skirt, and the feel of her frantically reaching for her release is fucking hell as I deny her.
I run my tongue over the smooth surface of my teeth, my lungs seared with her arousing fragrance. “Tell me,” I say with a low growl.
“Us.” The word escapes her on a rushed breath. “I fear us. The terrible things we’re capable of…the loss of control.”
But the way she’s squeezing her thighs together reveals the dark current of truth beneath her confession, just how much those terrible things excite her, how badly she craves that loss of control.
I can feel her so close, so damn close to that edge. “God, Kallum,” she breathes my name. “The ache…it hurts. Make it hurt so much worse.”
“Jesus, fuck.” I grit back my need to gnash her skin and deliver the pain she craves from me—the sharp delivery of which can be the sweetest relief.
“Bewitching little siren, be careful what you ask for,” I whisper roughly into her ear.
The explicit way in which she’s arching her back in pursuit of contact levels me. I drag my arms over hers, shifting her blouse to offer her nipples the stimulation she’s seeking, and when she tries to stifle a soft cry, I’m ash amid her fire.
I wedge my hand in the confined space between our bodies and gather her skirt at the waist. I tug the back of her panties just enough to slide the soaked material over her sensitive clit, and she greedily takes the friction.
“If you work those sexy hips any harder, I’m going to come all over this fucking skirt, Halen.” A growl claws free of my constricted chest. Every tender wound on my body blazes as she defiantly undulates against me.
With marked effort, I uncurl my fingers from her clothes. “If I taste your pain right now, I won’t be able to stop.”
Her reactive shiver tempts me to the bounds of my control, and as I force my hands over hers, she turns her palms up and threads her fingers through mine. “I trust you.”
Hell will swallow me whole.
I lower my mouth to her neck and breathe her into my aching lungs, tangled around her as she infuses my whole being with her delectable scent, her desire for that hit of pain strangling me.
“Breathe, sweetness,” I coax her. “Clench that sweet pussy around the throbbing ache. Hold the fire deep inside. Feel my hands touching every beautiful inch of your body. And stop fucking moving, or I swear I’m going to be forced to fuck you in the most obscene way in front of this whole gala.”
Her body locks tight, the dare to move and end the torture is a charged current strung too viciously tight between us. If she even shivers, I won’t hesitate to shove her infuriating skirt up and bury my cock inside her until she’s screaming my name.
“I need your touch,” she whispers, flaying the last of my restraint.
Unable to deny her, I splay my hand low on her belly, feeling her pelvic muscles contract. “That’s it, angel. Feed those dark and needy things right here out in the open. You can’t hide from me, ever. I know the sordid thoughts that surface from the fringe, and how you want me to take you there.”
Her body trembles against mine in concession, and I slide my hand down to her inner thigh to touch the sigil I carved there, stimulating one of her erogenous zones. I’ve mapped her body. Nipples, ears, thighs—all places Halen’s body responds to, but nothing surmounts mental stimuli when it comes to making my muse lose her mind.
Her throaty moan is pained as she tries to trap my hand between her legs.
“You don’t know if you want the pain to go on or stop, it’s such sweet agony. That’s how you make me feel, Halen. Every second with you is lovely agony, and the pain feels so goddamn good—that satisfying, edging bliss that’s right there, balancing between torture and ecstasy.”
The back of her head rolls along my chest, her body shuddering with desperate need for release. I’m so fucking hard that with one well-timed thrust sewn to her sexy movements, I’ll come apart.
The relief would be sublime, but fleeting.
I want to exist in her frenzy.
Despite her whimper of protest, I return my hand to hers on the rail and shamelessly rock against her perfect ass, becoming a madman as I abstain from giving in to her need. The violent, unrelenting urge to sink my cock inside her soaked pussy thrashes inside my chest like a caged animal.
“God, that’s it,” I urge her, my voice a coarse whisper. “You can feel me. I’m always inside you. Clench that sweet, needy cunt tighter and take me deeper. You can feel me as I thrust harder, becoming unhinged as I hit that deep, empty ache.”
Her breathing intensifies, and I swear to whatever divine entity hung the stars, I could get off on the erotic sound of her breath alone. The throaty cadence sends an arousing jolt to my groin, and I lock my jaw against the feral need to spread her ass and spill deep inside her.
