Page 38 of Souls and Sorrows

She leans back, and I track the movement, letting my gaze fall over her, cataloging every smooth plane, every scar, every freckle until I reach the feminine valley between her thighs. Her pussy glistens in the dull overhead lighting, and she reaches down with a thumb, spreading herself wide for my viewing pleasure.

Petal pink—just like that oleander flower and probably as toxic—and so goddamn perfect, practically begging for me to taste, and touch, andfuck.God, that desire rears up inside of me like a powerful storm surge, nearly drowning every ounce of resistance still trying to remain afloat.

“How do you want me?” she rasps, stroking herself slowly.

I watch, noting every motion that draws something from deep within her, committing it to memory. “Just like that.”

The corners of her mouth turn down slightly. “You don’t want to touch?”

A shiver moves across my skin, but I suppress it. I shake my head. “I want to watch you.”

“Watch me?”

“Fuck yourself.” I inhale, the scent of her arousal filling the car and sending my blood south. “Keep your hand between your thighs, right on that sweet pussy, and let me see what you look like when you come.”

I don’t even know what I’m saying, the depravity familiar in my head but foreign on my tongue. Still, she seems to like it, so I make a mental note of that and search inside of my brain for more.

Her lips part, her breaths growing shallow. My hand lifts, turning on another one of the overhead lights so I can see better. Crimson pours into her cheeks, her chest, creating hive shapes down the tops of her breasts.

My fingers ache as hers begin moving quicker, working her clit in small, circular motions.

“Feel good, Little Nightmare?”

She nods, frantic, her head falling back against the window as she lets out a breathy moan. “Incredible.”

Arousal spirals through my chest, making it difficult for air to reach my lungs.

Jesus, she’s beautiful.Bewitching in a way I didn’t anticipate.

In a way that might complicate things.

“Spread wider,” I snap, irritation spinning my words.

She obliges, picking up the pace.

“Now, imagine it’s me playing with you. Bringing you to the edge of oblivion and refusing to let you fall off.”

“Oh God.”

“Imagine me kneeling over this console and taking you in my mouth. Letting my tongue explore every sodden, scorching inch of you.”

“Oh fuck. Please, Cash, can you—”

“No. Now, slide your fingers inside.”

Her eyes pop open, and she looks at me without lifting her head. “Huh?”

My patience wears thin, my control hanging by a loose thread. “Inside, Ariana. I want you toreallyfuck yourself. Pretend it’s my cock and ride your hand until you’re dripping all over it.”

She blinks, apparently stunned by the newest command. Looking out the windshield, she seems to consider the fact that the parking garage isn’t the most private place for this sort of thing, and I see a brief flicker of hesitation cross her features.

But then she grins, tongue swiping over her bottom lip. Fuck, I wish I’d kissed her at the church.

I wonder if she tastes as ravishing as she looks.

“It might be easier to pretend,” she says, shifting so she’s wide open, “if I got to see you too.”

“Yeah? You want to see my dick, so you can imagine it splitting you open? Fucking you until you’re so sore that you can’t walk or sit or even close your goddamn legs for weeks?”

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