Page 90 of Monsters Wear Crowns
“Oh, no,thinking?” I raised a brow at him.
“Oh, shut up.” He lightly spanked me. “No, I was thinking that it’s been a while since I’ve made you feel…alive.”
My stomach dipped. “Rafe, every day with you recently has made me realizejusthow close to death I am at any given moment.”
He laughed low, swirling his iced coffee like he had all the time in the world. “Well, I have an idea.”
I turned away from him to scan the shelves, enjoying the chase and the feeling of his eyes on my back. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
The single word sent a current down my spine. I shivered when his body pressed up behind me–solid, warm, commanding. “What’s your–”
“Hold this, please,” he murmured, slipping the iced coffee into my hand.
Before I could ask a damn thing, his hands gripped my hips, pulling me flush against the hardness already straining in his pants. His mouth grazed my ear, voice laced with sin.
“Try to be quiet, love. I’ll keep watch.”
My breath caught. And then his hand was under my dress.Fuck.
The cold air kissed my thighs as he shoved the hem up with little patience. My heart thundered as his fingers found the waistband of my brown lace panties, slipping beneath without hesitation.
The first press of his middle finger inside me was enough to make my knees go weak.
I nearly gasped out loud.
“Shh, baby,” he whispered, nuzzling behind my ear as his finger curled inside me. “Don’t want anyone knowing how soaked you already are.”
I bit down on my lip, holding both of our iced coffees in my trembling hands like some absurd attempt at composure. He took his time–lazy strokes, slow circles over my clit that made my legsquiver.
“You got so wet, so fast,” he chuckled darkly. “Is that because we’re in public? Or just because it’s me?”
“Rafe,” I breathed, my voice barely audible, every inch of me burning.
“God, I love it when you say my name like that,” he growled. “Like your throat can’t decide if it wants to moan or beg.”
I was spiraling–utterly fucked in the head and loving it. We were in the middle of the goddamn New York Public Library, surrounded by ancient texts and silent rules, and Rafe Vaughan was knuckle-deep inside me.
And I never wanted him to stop.
He slipped in a second finger, groaning against the back of my neck as he stretched me. “So tight,” he rasped. “You grip me like your body knows who it belongs to.”
I whimpered, clenching around him, dizzy with need. My dress was bunched up around my thighs, my panties shoved to the side, and still he moved like we had all the time in the world.
His palm pressed hard against my clit as he worked his fingers deeper, faster. Precise. Devastating. “You look so fucking cute taking my fingers, baby,” he whispered. “Like a good little slut who just wanted a book and a brutal orgasm.”
My thighs trembled, my hands tightening around the iced coffees until the plastic crinkled.
“I can’t–Rafe–I’m gonna–”
“Shhh.”
His other hand clamped over my mouth, silencing the cry as the orgasm ripped through me like lightning. My body bowed, back arched against him as heat surged through every nerve ending.
“That’s it,” he growled, fingers never slowing. “Come for me. So fucking pretty when you break.”
I came hard–stars behind my eyelids, teeth against his palm,thighs shaking as he milked every last tremor from my body. His fingers stayed inside me, stroking me through it, claiming me.
