Page 75 of Desperate Crimes
Placing her on the cool marble counter and she squeaks.
So fucking cute.
Her eyes open wide.
And I’m already so hard for her, it hurts.
“I do, Princess,” I murmur.
My voice drops. My hands bracket her hips.
“Now open your legs.”
Her breath catches.
Her eyelids flutter. Her pupils blown.
I see the heat flicker behind her lashes, the way her fingers twitch where they rest on the edge of the counter, as if deciding whether to push me away or pull me closer.
“Is that how this works?” she asks, voice softer now, laced with something that makes my blood surge.
“No,” I say, bending close to her ear, letting my breath dance against her skin.
“This is how we work.”
And then I lift her dress.
She gasps as her thighs part, sliding around my waist, instinctual and perfect.
I tap her ankle, and she releases me, which I need her to do so I can get to what I want.
Her dress rides high, baring more of her skin than I deserve to see in daylight, but I’m not looking away. Ever.
My hands slide down her thighs, to the backs of her knees, spreading her just enough that I can step between her legs and feel the warmth of her against me for one blissful second.
Her breath trembles.
“You’ve been looking at me all morning like you want to be devoured,” I growl, eyes locked on hers.
“Nico,” she whimpers.
I kiss her cheek, her neck, the creamy tops of her big tits.
“Let go, Leanna. Let me be the monster you crave.”
Her lips part.
She doesn’t deny it.
She can’t.
Because we both know I’m already under her skin.
Already in her bloodstream.
Already the villain and the salvation she never saw coming.
And now?
