Page 59 of Playing With Danger

“My pussy?” she panted. “Last night it was your pussy.”

Fuck.

There was no more doubt—Sophie Huxley was going to be my downfall.

“You giving me this?” I punctuated my question. I ground deep and rolled her clit.

“I can’t give what’s already yours.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“And these? Are they mine, too?” I gave her nipple a hard tug.

“Yes,” she hissed.

The blood coursing through my veins heated. The left side of my chest started to burn.

More.

I needed more.

“And if I wanted more you’d give it to me?” I asked, knowing I was a motherfucking bastard.

“Yes.”

“Cunt. Tits. Ass. They’re mine?”

Seeing as I was already a world-class asshole and playing a dangerous game of moral gymnastics, I went for the gold and I pushed.

“And if I wanted more, would you give it? If I want all of you. Everything.”

Too much of a coward, I didn’t give her a chance to answer. I took her to the place I needed her to be, using my cock and fingers to drive her out of mind and behind the wall of pleasure where I knew she’d agree to anything.

“Yes!” she shouted as her orgasm took hold.

I rocked forward, planted deep, and let her sweep me under with her cunt pulsing and seizing, taking me away from my fucked life and pulling me into hers. With each rope of pleasure she pulled from me, I knew this was it; she’d leave and I’d turn into the very person I despised. Yet I did nothing to fight against it.

I might’ve laid claim to her body. She might’ve freely given it to me in return. But she’d stolen my soul, and in return I’d fucked her and given her my broken heart.

A heart that could never love her the way she deserved to be loved.

I didn’t know how.

The man who was supposed to teach me had left me hanging.

14

Something had changed.

It wasn’t necessarily bad…but neither was it good.

It was just a shift in energy.

It was nothing more than a feeling, when Valentine looked at me searchingly. Like he was waiting for me to say or do something and he wanted to be prepared when I did.

I couldn’t place it exactly but I knew.

This morning after Valentine had fucked me within an inch of my life and had given me the second-best orgasm in history, he’d scooped me up off the bed like he’d done the night before. But instead of the bath, he’d taken me into the shower. He’d gently washed every inch of me, including my hair.

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