Page 55 of Desperate Crimes
He grunts.
He’s got me circling the edge, but I need more.
“Say my name, Princess. Say it and I’ll give you what you want.”
And then.
“Nico!”
His fingers drive deeper, hitting that secret spot inside me, and I cry out.
He grins against my skin.
I can feel it, and it sends me spiraling.
“Good girl.”
A part of me wants to smack him, but another part is preening because I’ve pleased him.
But I’m too caught up in sensation to act. He nips at my skin, biting me gently.
“Mine now,” he growls.
And as my body shatters around his touch, slick and throbbing and ruined in the most delicious way—I know he’s right.
He’s always been right.
I’m his.
I always wanted to be.
“Glimmer,” he says, fingers still stroking lazily inside of me.
It’s a voice command that activates the soft glowing wall sconces.
He withdraws his fingers gently, wet with proof of what he’s done to me.
And I feel it then—not just the loss of contact, but the full weight of what just happened.
I came for him.
Hard.
Desperate.
Raw.
His eyes lock onto mine—those piercing sapphire-blue irises I’ve worshipped from afar for years.
They’re darker now. Dilated.
Glowing with something primal and possessive.
Heat and passion.
Obsession.
And something else I’m almost afraid to name.
