Page 39 of Souls and Sorrows

Her teeth clamp down on her bottom lip, and she nods.

I’m tempted to deny her, but in truth, I want it as much as she does. Undoing the buttons on my slacks, I yank down the zipper and pull myself free. Just as I wrap my fist around the base, feeling it jerk to life with a single glance, she whimpers, pushing two fingers into her pussy.

Gritting my teeth, I tug at my length, timing each stroke with the pumping of her wrist. The lewd, wet sounds of her arousal caress my ears, spurring me on, and a guttural groan catches in my throat as release pounds up my spine, scratching its way into the vertebrae.

“God, I’m close,” she gasps, and I move my hand faster, watching her melt into the sensations like lava spilling down the side of a volcano.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Gonna come in the front seat of your husband’s car, where anyone might be secretly watching? Where heiswatching, desperate to see if you scream?”

I lean over, breaking a cardinal rule when my hand snakes out, finding hers and forcing a third finger in with her other two. She sucks in a breath at the intrusion, but I remove myself before she can get used to the sensation, continuing to fist my cock until my head feels like it might explode.

Bringing my other hand up, I smear her arousal over her pretty lips, and she opens, taking the offending digit into her mouth. Sucks and swirls her tongue around it, and now, I’m imagining my dick in the place of her hand. How it’d feel for her to sink down, taking me in her tight, wet heat, and strangle an orgasm out of me.

“Do it, sweet girl. Come for your husband, and I won’t tell anyone just how deviant you are. It can be our little secret.”

“What if I don’t want it to be a secret?” she taunts. “I do like the attention after all, and this certainly gets the most.”

Flashes of her onstage at Anteros, being groped by strangers, spill across my vision, igniting a possession I’m not familiar with.

“I don’t care.”

Removing my finger, I glide down to her jaw, pushing her head so she’s pinned against the window and unable to move. She keeps fucking herself, and so do I. I’m afraid this is a strange line I’ve crossed that we won’t come back from, but I can’t stop.

Don’t want to stop.

“From now on, your filthy sins are mine to enjoy. No one else’s.”

She mewls, vibrating with pleasure, and my climax races up from the base of my spine, shooting through my limbs.

“Come, sweet girl. Just. Like. That. Soak the seat like you wish you were soaking my face.”

She does, letting out a sound that is somewhere between a cry and a moan, uninhibited in the confines of the car. I grunt, spilling into my hand and working through the release as the corners of my vision blur.

Breathing hard, we slump back, and she withdraws with a wince. I reach into the console and pull out a tissue, wiping myself. When she wiggles her fingers for the same, I ignore her, tucking my dick into my pants and shoving open my door.

“Don’t clean up.”

Walking around to her side, I yank the handle, and she raises a hand to shield herself from the sudden sunlight.

“You want me to walk to your place like this?”

“I want you to remember how good you just came the next time you think about killing me.”

11

Cash’s moversput all of my things in one of the guest bedrooms, so the minute the elevator opens to the penthouse, I scramble through the foyer in search of them.

“You don’t even know where you’re going,” he calls as I disappear down a hall, peeking into every door I come upon.

There are dozens of them, each leading to a room different from the last—a home office and gym, a laundry room, a den lined with heavy wooden bookshelves and a globe-shaped cart with a crystal decanter on top. I pass a few bedrooms, the cream-colored walls throughout the apartment and the massive floor-to-ceiling windows making everything bigger and brighter than I was expecting.

Given the crummy, ancient penthouse I’ve been living in because my nonna signed its lease over to me, I suppose this is technically an upgrade. And it’s definitely luxurious and put together, as if Cash opened the pages of anArchitectural Digestand installed the first marble floor and custom gold Italian faucets he landed on.

There’s a secluded spiral staircase at the end of a narrow hall in the back, and I disappear up it before my new husband can stop me. My wedding dress swishes at my feet, hastily put back on once I was summoned from the car earlier.

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