Page 28 of Pretty Little Threats

“Already have that,” he says, inching closer, sliding his thigh over my cunt.

My clit throbs in response, and I clamp my jaw to keep from making a sound. Pressing the pads of my fingers against the wall, I try to ignore the desire flooding me.

“Say I take you as my wife,” Dare begins, moving the hand from my chin and running it down my side, stopping at my hip and gripping it firmly. “Would you let mefuck you?”

“Yes,” I lie.

He squints, as though he can scent my deception. “And you’d let me taste you?” His thumb slips beneath the band of my leggings, tracing over my lower stomach. A shiver rolls down my spine, but fear is nowhere in sight. My pussy clenches in response to his teasing.

“Yes,” I say, though this time, I’m not sure it’s a lie.

God, it’s been far too long since I’ve had sex if I’m desperate for Dare to touch me.

It doesn’t make any sense. I shouldn’t be attracted to him. I should be happy to marry someone like Eric, who is the picture of corporate America, but I’m not. The fucked-up truth is, I find Dare attractive.

He’s the enemy. The antithesis of who I should want. But he’s gorgeous. Strong. Deadly. Terrifying.

A cocky smile tips his lips. Watching my face, he slips his hands into my pants, shifting his leg to give himself room to cup my cunt. I’m embarrassingly aroused, but all he does is hum in approval.

“So wet for me already, princess?”

“I’m not your?—”

His hand around my throat cuts off the words. He squeezes hard enough to warn me, though not hard enough to hurt me, which is unexpected. “But you asked to be my wife,” he murmurs, stroking a finger through my slit, circling my pulsing clit.

I purse my lips to stifle the whimper begging to slip out.

Dare repeats the motion, his gaze darkening in response to my defiance. Caressing and rolling the pad of his finger over my clit faster and faster, he slips two of his fingers inside of me. I gasp, lips parting at the sudden but welcome intrusion.

My walls clamp around him, and he grunts, thrusting his fingers deep inside of my cunt and stroking my G-spotwhile his other finger teases my clit. The hand at my neck loosens enough to allow me to pant, chest heaving, as Dare pins me in place, determination written over his face.

“Ask,” he demands.

My forehead crinkles. “What?”

“Ask me again.” Dare stokes a fire deep in my belly, his touch making my skin burn in the best of ways.

I want to fight him. Want to refuse. To find my way back in control of the situation, but the way his eyebrows draw down, a silent command to do his bidding, steals the last of my sanity.

Legs weak, body thrumming with pleasure, and on the brink of an orgasm, I whisper, “Marry me, Dare.”

Working harder, Dare takes me higher and higher until the room is filled with my pants and whimpers, until I roll my hips to meet his strokes, until I melt into the wall and he’s the only thing holding me up. My lips tingle and my eyes widen, holding his gaze as stars dance across my vision and he makes me come.

My cry fills the space between us.

Dare smirks, watching me fall apart as he eases me through the orgasm. He stops when I pull in a deep breath. My walls tighten around his retreating fingers, and he chuckles, fixing my leggings before lifting his glistening digits to his mouth. His full lips close around his fingers as he sucks them clean.

Damn, that’s hotter than it should be.

Slowly drawing them out, he brushes them over my mouth, wetting my lips, a strange look on his face. But a moment later, it’s gone, and he pushes away from the wall, taking his warmth with him. “Run home to Daddy, Rose.”

His words slap me across the face.

“What?”

He backs away, glaring at me. “Get out.”

Something I don’t understand changed in the seconds between him making me come and him telling me to get out.

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