Page 44 of The Masks We Burn

“And your dad?”

Her face softens and she pushes out a big breath, leaning back in her chair. “Busy. He loves the shit out of us, but he’s always in a meeting or building a hotel. Because of that, he kind of gives my mom free rein when it comes to making decisions for me like I’m not a grown ass woman.”

So it’s the mom. She must have given Amora an ultimatum of some kind and she needs a husband to fulfill her end. I want to ask, but also don’t think I should push my luck, and let it come out naturally.

“Alright, so basically, I just need to be a gentleman with money?”

“Yeah, you don’t have to prove you can protect me because you fight in my dad’s club and you’re as big as a damn house.” She gestures up and down my frame, and that same swell of pride expands in my chest. “Stop. I am not trying to stroke your ego.”

A smirk pulls up one side of my lips. “I have something else you can stroke.”

“Here you go. Don’t get cocky.”

She makes it too easy. “But I like when you make me cocky.”

Amora laughs so hard, a snort stops up her nose. “I literally just cringed so hard. Could you not think of one thing sexier? Literally anything?”

She continues to laugh, and I stare in awe at her happiness. It’s so outrageously beautiful, it’s almost painful to look at. I can’t help it when the sound pulls me in like a full-force magnet. Nor can I stop myself when I cut the laughter short by smashing my lips against hers.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

It’s funny how things can change in the blink of an eye. One minute, I’m laughing at the ridiculous pun Will tries to make, and the next, I’m climbing on top of his lap.

The moment he presses his lips to mine, I feel the shift. It’s not a buildup of sexual tension finally being released or an end to the tireless banter like the first time in my car.

This one is aggressive. Desperate. Starved.

It’s like he’s been waiting to kiss me since the last time we stopped, and nothing is going to get in the way until he has his fill.

The thought drives into my core, urging me to get closer even though it’s impossible. I’m sitting on my knees, my legs straddled on either side of his thighs. My breasts press against his collarbone while his dick is poking through his sweatpants and against my center.

Unable to stop myself, I rock my hips, gliding my silk-covered pussy over his length, coaxing a groan deep from his chest. It makes goosebumps rise down my arms, and I clutch the sides of his face tighter, deepening our kiss.

One of his hands disappears from my back and yanks my hairbands down, releasing my pink waves to fan in the small space between us. A second later, he threads his fingers through the strands, gripping hard to break our lips apart and force my face back.

I yelp in surprise, the sting quickly fading to pleasure as William’s mouth meets my neck. His tongue works its magic, caressing the muscle that runs along the column just before teeth graze across the flesh. It feels like he’s stopping himself from what he wants to do.

“Quit being scared and just—”

“Stop talking,” he commands, his face still buried in my neck, the promise of a little pain hidden in his voice.

“I don’t like being told what to do.”

He yanks my head back farther, and I almost scream my objections at the loss of his mouth. “Tell me what youdolike, Mora. What’s your love language?”

This causes my brows to furrow, but when I fight against his hold and try to look at him, he pulls harder. “Why do you want to know that?”

“Because it’s how I need to treat you in bed.”

Oh. I see.

I catch my bottom lip between my teeth. “I don’t know.”

Will loosens his grip, but I don’t look at him, scared as hell he’ll see the insecurities I’ve worked so hard to mask. But then he surprises me. “Let’s find out. Be a good girl and get on your knees.”

My pussy clenches at his words, concerns forgotten. I’m not one for being commanded but fuck if I don’t want to do everything he says right now. My entire body burns as I do as told, slipping from his lap and onto the floor in front of him.

It’s there I’m able to let the vixen take over, my eyes becoming low, my blinks lazy as I let myself brazenly gaze at his imprint. It almost seems too big, and I wonder if it’s from the blood rushing through my veins, or my hormones vibrating every nerve ending in making me see things.

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