Page 8 of Redemption

Fuck.I swallow the curse and breathe through the pulse of lust that surges through my body. My cock stiffens, and I wrestle for control so that I don’t get a hard-on in public.

“Will you struggle?” My voice is rougher now, crueler.

Her lips brush my cheek as she asks breathily, “Do you want me to?”

I bite back a groan. This woman is maddeningly perfect. I need to drive into her wet heat and fuck her hard until she weeps for mercy.

I’ve never unleashed my savage side before. I’ve always been careful to hide the cruelest parts of my nature behind cool control in the bedroom. I manipulate and seduce to get what I want, but I’m never fully myself.

The prospect of letting my mask drop entirely tempts me to the edge of sanity.

I grit my teeth and barely restrain myself from shoving her against the wall to claim her mouth with all the ruthlessness I’m capable of.

Not here.

I can’t let anyone see me like that.

Expect maybeher.

The sensual promise of this darkest game makes my blood burn in my veins. My fingers tighten around her nape, and I drag her closer. I nip at the sensitive spot beneath her ear, and she releases the most erotic little whimper I’ve ever heard.

She wants this. She wantsme.

The real, unmasked version of me that I’ve never shown anyone.

This is dangerous. Reckless.

I don’t know Abigail at all, and I’m considering a rash act that’s completely out of character for me.

“Abby!” A masculine voice calls out from behind me, tearing the moment I’m sharing with my pretty prey.

She jerks in my hold, and for a moment, I firm my grip on her slender neck. She draws in a sharp breath and softens against me, melting into the harsh touch.

So fucking perfect.

“Abby.” The man says again. “I can’t find Stacy. She’s not answering my calls.”

I round on him, fixing him with a glower like he’s a fly I’ll swat away without a second thought.

He pales slightly, and his mouth drops open on a gasp beneath his neat black moustache.

Fuck.

I struggle to summon up my civilized mask again. This person is clearly Abigail’s friend, and he’s concerned for another woman they know. I can’t eviscerate him for daring to interrupt us.

“Franklin?” Her voice slurs slightly on his name when she returns to a normal speaking volume. I hadn’t noticed the slower cadence to her speech when we’d been whispering forbidden secrets.

Is she drunk?

I recall the fact that she drank at least two slushies before I plied her with one and a half cosmopolitans. How much of a lightweight is she? Did she have even more slushies before I arrived at the bar?

I’d been concerned about allowing her to drink her second cocktail, but maybe she’s already had too much.

I force myself to put distance between us so that her friend, Franklin, can talk to her.

She stumbles away from the wall as soon as I stop pinning her.

I rake a hand through my hair, strangely agitated.

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