Page 80 of Precious Hazard

“I think…” Those soft lips ghost across the side of my face, and every neuron in my body catches fire. “I think that it turns you on, Tara.”

The air gets lodged in my throat. I open my mouth to deny it, to tell him how utterly idiotic his presumption is, but the words won’t form on my tongue.

He dips his head lower until his lips press just below my ear while he continues in that sultry, raspy voice. “Ask me how I know.”

“How?” I exhale.

“Because it has the same effect on me…,gattina mia.” His lips close around the pulse point on the column of my neck, sucking my skin between his grazing teeth.

An electric current zips through my veins, rattling my bones to the marrow. Every part of me tingles with charged energy. It’s how I feel each time we kiss. As if I’m melting. Dissolving into the ether only to be held together by his heated touch. This man is going to be my ruin. I just know it.

A faint moan escapes me, betraying my steadfast resolve to resist Arturo’s seduction. I grab the lapels of his suit jacket and tilt my head to the side, giving him greater access. His lips trail a painfully slow path to the juncture between my neck and shoulder. It’s a searingly hot kiss. Suddenly, he seems to be everywhere, even though it’s only his mouth that’s touching me. I can feel the power of that contact all the way between my legs, where my core clenches in desperate need.

No. This can’t be happening. Not again. I am not attracted to Arturo DeVille. And never will be.

His mouth continues the assault on all my senses, lighting me up from the inside. I’m teetering between begging for more and searching for the strength to stop this. No matter what I do, I lose.

But it doesn’t feel like a defeat when his teeth gently scrape my shoulder. When the silky fabric of my skirt starts to drift upward along my bare legs. My calves. My inner thighs. Wait… Those are calloused fingers. Lightly touching my hypersensitive flesh. Up. Trailing upward. Pulling my thong to the side…

The sudden pressure on my aching clit sends a jolt of heat through me, sparking to life the flame that’s now burningme alive. A low moan escapes my throat as air rushes from my lungs.

“I love the way you purr when I tease your pussy.”

My ability to shoot back a snarky response is nonexistent. All because of the way he’s now rubbing my clit. His slow but forceful motions are driving me insane. I squeeze the lapels of his jacket, holding on for dear life. Holding on to him.

His rhythm oscillates, switching from slow to fast, fast to slow. It’s as if he knows exactly what it will take for me to lose my mind completely. I throw my head back, panting, getting wetter by the second. Coming closer and closer to the edge.

Holy shit!

He can do that with nothing but his hand. No one else has ever made me orgasm just by letting their fingers play with my clit. Yet here I am. On the cusp of once again falling over the edge, guided by Arturo goddamn DeVille.

I hate myself for every moan of pleasure, every second of surrender, every shuddering breath. Everything he’s making me feel. And still, I never want him to stop.

His lips fall to my neck again, claiming my flesh with a force that straddles the line between pleasure and pain. The teasing of my pussy halts, and I’m just about to protest when he suddenly pinches my clit.Hello, cosmos!I explode. Reduced to stardust in a fucking supernova.

“See? I was right after all, little cat.”

The satisfaction in his voice is unmistakable. He pulls his hand away and brings his fingers to his lips. With his gaze locked on mine, he licks them clean. Just as he did the other night. And just as before, it has exactly the same effect on me. I nearly come again simply from seeing him do it.

“You taste so damn sweet.” A devilish smirk tugs up the corner of his lips. He slips the tip of his thumb into his mouth, sucking off the remaining cum. “Not even the slightest hint of that bitterness you so enjoy spewing. Which makes me think. All of that… Your venom… It’s nothing but an act.”

“Enough.” I plant my palms on his chest to push him away, but end up just leaving them there. Too weak to force even a smidge of distance between us. Still shaking after coming down from on high. “Move.”

He takes an unhurried step back while his gaze drifts to the side of my neck, right to where my skin still tingles from his kiss.

Slowly, I raise my hand, touching the tender spot just below my ear. “You… you left a hickey on me?”

“I guess I did.”

I open my mouth. Then snap it shut and storm past him as fast as my heels allow. Satan DeVille has left a fucking hickey on me. Marking me where anyone could see as if I’m… I’m… his possession or something. And… and I like it.

Shit.

Beneath the soaring eighteen-foot ceilings, the massive crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light on the milling attendees. This ballroom is something else. An opulent space that brings to mind the grandeur of historic European hotels. It’s decked out with a glossy dance floor, majestic skylight, statelycolumns, and countless French doors that in warmer months would allow guests to explore the venue’s other areas.

It’s almost ironic that in this neoclassical banquet hall, everybody is staring. At us. Not surprising, considering the monstrosity gracing the top of my wife’s head is at least six inches tall. I’m not even sure how to describe her “hairstyle.” A three-story-wedding-cake-inspired bun? A leaning hair tower of feathered disaster? Who knows. But no one could ever say that Tara lacks creativity, that’s for certain.

But not every look of astonishment is because of her centuries-old royal updo. Despite her outrageous hair, my wife looks divine in her elegant navy-blue formal dress. It hugs her body, wrapping around her slight but mouthwatering curves before gently flaring near mid-thigh, highlighting her figure. The off-shoulder neckline adds a touch of sophistication without revealing too much of that milky skin I can’t stay away from. She’s beautiful. Ravishing. Andmine. But she remains tempting to all these assholes. They can’t hide what they’re thinking, and I’m seized anew by volcanic rage whenever I spot another man glancing at my wife, devouring her with his eyes.

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