Page 42 of Velvet Betrayal
“What?”
“Tell me what you think it does to me.” My hand slid down her belly, over the curve of her hip. “Say it.”
She licked her lips, eyes hot. “Makes you lose your goddamn mind.”
I grinned into her skin. “Exactly.”
She was panting now, hands in my hair. “You always were cocky.”
“You love it.”
“Unfortunately.”
I knelt between her legs, dragged her underwear down with slow reverence. “Say that again.”
“Unfortunately,” she repeated, breathless.
I kissed the scar on her thigh, the freckle by her hipbone, her navel. “Not unfortunate for me.”
When I went down on her, she tried to laugh—nerves, disbelief, need—but it broke on a moan. Her thighs clamped around me. I didn’t stop. I licked her slow and deep, fingers curling inside her, drawing sounds from her that made my blood boil.
“You always—” she choked out, “—do this like it’s the last time.”
“Could be,” I said into her. “So let me.”
Her head fell back. She swore, reached for anything to hold—my shoulders, the couch, herself. I pushed her higher, stayedwith her until she broke. When she came, it was full-body—quiet, hard, trembling like she’d caught fire and forgot how to breathe.
When I pulled back, she was flushed, lips parted. Her fingers dragged me up by the hair. She kissed me like she didn’t care who she was or what she’d promised herself not to feel.
“You’re a menace,” she said against my mouth, dazed.
“I can stop,” I whispered, even though I wouldn’t.
“You fucking better not.”
She pulled me in, arms tight around my shoulders, sweat and skin and the pulse of her heart beating wild. I lined up, slow, because this was her kitchen and her rules, but the second she felt my cock slide against her, she bucked, grinding into me like she wanted to break us both.
I didn’t tease. I pressed in, and she gasped, already ready, tight and slick and perfect. Her legs locked around my waist, heels digging in, fingernails raking down my shoulders like she wanted to peel me open. I set a rhythm—slow, then harder—building until the slap of skin and the creak of the counter were the only sounds in the world. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I worried we’d wake the kid, but neither of us cared. This was need, pure and ugly and honest.
She bit my ear, hard. “Don’t you dare stop.”
So I didn’t.
I fucked her harder, the counter rattling, her hands braced on the edge, knuckles white. I slid a hand up her front, cupping her neck, thumb tracing her jaw. She arched into it, lips parted, a sound escaping from deep inside, something molten she’d never show anyone else. I watched her come apart, beautiful even at the edge of breaking, and I wanted to hold her there forever.
But she got herself there, like she always did—absolute will, total focus. She came with a full-body shudder, legs locked,hauling me deeper, voice low and furious: “I hate you. I hate you so much.”
I grinned. “I know.”
I fucked her until we both seized, until she broke again, hands at the back of my neck, holding on like she could drag me back from the brink. When I came, I filled her, every part of me, and stood there, her cheek pressed to the cold counter, her toes curled hard.
For a while, we just breathed. It was enough. The quiet after a fight, when both sides lean in, just to see if they can go on. I knew Ruby was already thinking ahead, counting consequences, but I didn’t care. For the first time in years, our pulses lined up, desperate but alive. She touched the ruby on my ribs, tracing it like she needed to remember.
“Still a dumbass,” she said.
“Always.”
I kissed her forehead, gentle. She slid off the counter, legs shaky. She steadied herself, piecing her composure together like she could glue herself back by sheer will. She found her shirt and bralette, quick hands moving like a thief hiding evidence before the alarms went off. The more she covered up, the harder it was to remember her naked, sweat shining on her skin.
