Page 77 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

My hips bucked and threatened to slide off the treadmill but then Victor’s hands dug into my thighs, deep enough to bruise, locking me in place.

He licked - LICKED- along my slit and I let out an ungodly cry.

I’d seen this before. In porn. But seeing it didn’t compare to the actual feeling of his tongue flexing and pushing against me.

His teeth grazed over my hot clit. “Victor, please,” I whimpered, not even sure what I wanted.

“Shut up, or I’ll find a way to make you shut up, Cordelia,” he replied, and while his mouth was busy forming words, flicked two fingers against my sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Like what?” I whined.

He huffed, straightening up. I already regretted asking, only because I wanted him - no, Ineededhim to keep going.

I just tracked the flash of peach lace, before he clasped a hand around the back of my neck, locking me in before he shoved my own panties into my mouth. “Be a good girl and hold onto these for me.”

“What the fuck?” My reply was muffled, and sounded more likewhah heh huh.

I could taste myself on the fabric and it sent a strange, blinding rush through all my senses.

Then Victor’s mouth was back between my legs, torturing me. He played with me. Fast then slow. Angry then gentle. The pressure in my core built and built, brimming to the edges of what I could survive - only for him to ease up again, giving me a few breaths to simmer down.

“Please,” I begged, blinking through a sudden onset of tears, but it sounded more likepheeh.

“Fuck,” he huffed and straightened again. He pulled the fabric from my mouth, and I worked my jaw for just a second, before his lips claimed mine. If I’d thought my underwear tasted like my own arousal, it was nothing compared to his tongue, coated in it. The guttural moan that escaped me completely ruined the kiss. “Cordelia?”

“Hmm?”

“I told you to shut up.”

I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut and shifting my hips against him, needing to feel something.

Instead of giving me what I was desperate for, Victor’s arms folded around me and he lifted me off the treadmill. I remainedpressed against his chest, my legs nowhere near stable enough to hold me up.

“What are you doing?” I whined.

“If you can’t do as you’re told, you don’t get to come.”

“What?” I sounded pathetic.

He slid a hand down my back, over the curve of my cheeks and between my legs. One finger parting me, he gave me one last, slow stroke that had me shuddering against his chest, before he pulled my dress down over my hips again. “Don’t worry, you’ll learn, zhizn’ moya.”

“Are you serious?” I pushed my fists into his chest, but he had me in an iron grip against him. I could only crane my neck back to furiously blink up at him. “That’s not-”

He silenced me with a kiss - much gentler than before, his lips carefully exploring mine. “For what it’s worth,” he rasped, breath lingering in the space between our faces, “you taste even better than I imagined.”

I shuddered at the meaning of those words. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” I asked, throwing his question back.

“I always think about you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Irina’sstupid duffel bag didn’t fit into my living room. It was scuffed leather, slouchy and black. It looked like it belonged to some hitchhiker in an old horror movie. And the fact that I hated it had nothing to do with Irina. Irina wasfine. Being home alone with her wasfine. Victor going to Las Vegas to give some official UFC interview about his comeback wasfine.

It was just that ugly duffel bag. It completely messed up the look of my pretty pastel sofa.

Jaw locked tight, I threw the door of my office shut, leaned my back against it and took some steadying breaths.

Stupid ugly distracting duffel bag.

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