Page 7 of The Tenth Circle
The caress of gentle fingers settles its rapid beating.
As if sympathizing with the effect he has on me, this stranger continues lulling me with hushed breaths and lazy circles of his thumb against my most private area. Not letting up on any of it until all that’s left is the sound of silence between us.
Then, finally, he responds to my question.
“If you think I am.”
I internally groan when I realize what he means.
Oh, Mylanta.
Not this again.
Why the hell does this guy care what I think of his morals and values? I can barely figure out my own at the moment.
“The only thing I think you are is crazy, maybe slightly bipolar.” My breath hitches when his hands travel to the button of my jeans.
“So she diagnoses too…” he muses.
My fingers whip around his wrist, attempting to stop what’s happening between us before it reaches the point of no return. Then, with my eyes squeezed shut, I force out a, “Stop.”
He does but not without a snarky response.
“Where’s all that sass from earlier? Hm?”
Pretty sure it’s been outsmarted by my damn vagina.
I shove him off me, and it works for a second before both my wrists are being squeezed together above my head.
“Get off,” I demand.
He laughs.
I struggle in his grip. “What the hell is so funny?”
“Besides how little you pay attention?”
He removes one of the hands he’s got above my head, only to have it sliding up my leg again.
So I kick the asshole.
Said asshole blocks the assault with ease, and this time when I’m restrained, he makes sure to squeeze my wrists until they hurt.
“I said get off!”
That’s when nails dig into my skin, making me wince.
The psycho must’ve sensed my reaction, because he eases his hold, and I can see a glimpse of his eyes staring at me in the dark. Not enough to interpret what he’s thinking but enough to know he’s curious.
Dammit, I wish I could see more of this guy, but hate that I want to even more. It’s why when he releases me and his fingers travel back between my legs, I don’t bother trying to fight it.
We stare at each other through the darkness, the striking blue in his irises making it a smidge less difficult.
I swallow, knowing if this guy doesn’t look away now I may be the one answering to his alleged “Royal Cock”.
But would I be? There was no lulling or shushing to be found for those bitches. He’s actually being considerate.
Of my feelings.
