Page 57 of Unholy Bonds

I could almost sense her silky skin under my fingers and hear her breathy moan.

Growling, I tightened my hands around the steering wheel, physically restraining myself from giving in to the impulse. It was impossible not to run to her house and demand she let me in.

She would.

She’d enjoy every deranged thing I wanted to do to her and never even blink. The book I was forced to borrow from her let me know her strange, skewed tastes, and it was hard not to get aroused when I thought of Yara tied to my bed, supple, pliant, willing to play my games.

My cock strained against my pants as I grabbed my binoculars with trembling fingers.

Breathing in and out to stop my pounding heart, I stared at her, and it was hard not to groan.

The gauzy white curtain allowed only a look at her silhouette, bent over the table, reading something. I wondered what she was reading—was she reading something like the book she gave me?

As if she could sense my eyes on her, feel me along the waves of darkness, hidden, hunting, she stood up and walked to the windows and pulled the curtain open, finally revealing herself. She was no longer a silhouette. My breath stuck. My lungs became small.

Through the lens, she felt close, so close that I could almost count the red freckles on her nose.

My heart pounded as she leaned against the window, and I was sure she was looking at me, even when she couldn’t see me.

She was wearing a skimpy pink negligee that showed more than it covered. Her skin, flushed and temptingly delicious, shone in the moonlight, begging for my fingers.

Breathtaking. So magnificent.

“Fuck. Who are you wearing that fucking dress for, Little Killer? If it’s for another man, if a man walks into your fucking room right now, I’ll lose it.”

Cursing, I rubbed my cock over my pants, anger rippling inside me.

“I’d fucking kill that son of a bitch and fuck you over his dead body, doing the right thing be damned!”

After a few more minutes, I was sure she was indeed alone.

“I… I can’t stop this madness, Yara.”

The more I looked at her, the more I craved. The ache wouldn’t allow me to even breathe properly. It grew and grew until the pressure was too much.

My fingers went to my erection, and a loud groan left my lips when she arched her back, thrusting her breasts forward, and they strained against the delicate fabric, nipples in hard peaks.

My mouth watered as I tightened my fingers around my cock.

She licked her lips before one hand clawed up and pressed against her breast.

“Are you planning to kill me, Red?” I moaned as I moved my hand up and down my cock, pulling, tugging, wanting more. I wanted her touch, her mouth, her everything.

Just her. Yara West.

She was a roaring fire, made of streaks of gold, red, yellow, orange, and blue, burning together to form something deranged, and yet fully sane.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Her throat moved as she traced a finger between her cleavage. She looked wild… tempting. She was everywhere around me. In the night air, in the trees. I could smell her scent on my skin—it smelled like vanilla and sin.

My fingers burned to rip that scrap of a dress off her body, push her to the floor, and ravish her. Everything in me demanded to hear her scream my name as I took her to hells and heavens.

Then I saw her pulling her dress up, and I saw the vibrator in her hand. Her hand inched toward her pussy, and I was done. I had never come so hard in my life.

“Fuuuckkk…”

Cursing under my breath, I hastily pulled up my pants and revved the engine, trying to outrun my own thoughts. She stilled, almost as if she could hear the roar of my engine cutting through the silence. Her lips curled into a satisfied smile. She gazed straight at where I was, her eyes challenging, and then she lifted her hand and waved. She fucking waved.

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