Page 25 of Lords of Misrule
“You don’t like yours used against you?” Rowan wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me flush against his body, resting his head against mine, his lips a few inches from my ear. “Like the fact you like to watch him all the time. Wishing it was you in his lap. Don’t you?”
Rowan’s other hand drifts up my side and over my chest, slipping under the top and bustier I have on. He cups my breast, and his thumb plays over my nipple. I don’t move to stop him, giving him silent permission. I hate the man, but I love the way his hands feel on me. The way he looks when he touches me.
“Or would you rather be on your knees for him? I bet you’d love sucking his cock, wouldn’t you? Taking him deep down your throat until you choke on him. Knowing you’re all he sees.” His lips brush over the side of my neck, and I lean against the pocket door, watching Finn and wishing it was him touching me like this. “You want that, don’t you?” Rowan presses.
“Yes.” It’s the truth, one he already knows, but he punishes me for it, pinching my nipple and grazing his teeth over my neck. “Fuck, Rowan.”
His hands drift down, and he starts undoing the button on my pants, his fingers on the zipper a moment later, the sound of it so loud in this room despite the din of the party just beyond the door. He hesitates though, just as his fingertips hit the edge of my underwear.
“Tell me to stop. Tell me you fucking hate me and don’t want my hands on you.” His words are low, and the raspy nature of his voice does something for me even though I wish it didn’t. I’m surprised he asks at all, but then I’m fairly certain the question is more about his ego than anything else—him wanting to know that it’s not just Finn I’m imagining.
“I hate you.” It’s the best I can do because we all swore no lies in this house.
He grins against my skin before he slips his fingers under the elastic, sliding two of them deep inside me as he kisses my shoulder, a soft vibration along my collarbone when he groans at how wet I am.
“Want it that fucking bad? Just thinking about it gets you this wet,” he mutters the words as he kisses a trail up my neck. His fingers start to move inside me, and his palm grazes over my clit. I lean forward seeking more friction than I’m getting, and an amused rumble comes out of his chest.
“Fuck, you’re so needy. So desperate for it.”
“Whatever your ego needs to believe.” I shouldn’t taunt him, but I can’t help myself. The desire to have him touch me almost as much as the desire to be able to cut as sharply as he does with his words.
He pulls away abruptly then, and I nearly fall into the door when he lets me go, catching myself just in time. I turn around and see him leaning back against the desk again. He pulls another couple of blackberries out of the bowl, his fingers still wet with me, and pops them in his mouth. His jaw works as his eyes rake over me, annoyance dancing across his face. I go to straighten my top and the bustier, to put myself back to rights.
“Don’t.” He glares at me. “In fact, fucking take that off.”
“Why should I?”
“I can get you things you want, or I can take them away for good.” He raises one shoulder in a half-shrug. “It’s up to you.”
I stare at him for a long minute, but then my hands go to the hem of the shirt and pull it over my head. I toss it onto the desk next to him like a challenge, and he glances at it and then at me, watching as I reach to undo the bustier next.
“Wait.” Another berry goes into his mouth, tucked against his cheek before he speaks. “Oh fuck. Hudson would love that. Did you let him see?”
“Hudson has a girlfriend.” I’d happily show him if it wasn’t for the fact he’s off-limits. They all should be, really. Apparently though, psychotic and disinterested aren’t enough to dissuade me.
“Does he remember that?” Rowan muses more to himself than anyone. “Take it off.” He doesn’t bother to look up. Apparently, lingerie doesn’t interest him. I’m not sure much does. He’s the kind who would yawn during hardcore porn.
“You could ask nicely.” I smile at him, my eyes letting him know how often I wish he’d die on the spot.
He grabs another handful of berries and crosses the space between us in a few short steps.
“Please let me see your fucking tits.” His tone is crisp but not quite cruel. I raise my eyes to his, holding them while I undo the line of hooks and eyes at the back before I let it fall to the ground.
A sound of appreciation leaves him as his eyes drift over me, his hand coming forward to cup one breast, and his thumb teases my nipple as it starts to peak under his touch. He’s soft, gentle even, in the way he touches me.
He crushes one of the berries between his fingers before he eats it, taking the juice left in its wake and smearing it over my nipple. A stain’s left there before he leans down to run his tongue over it. I gasp at how warm his mouth is and the clever way his tongue circles the tip. He smirks when he releases me, musing at his handiwork while he pops the last berry in his mouth. He leans forward, grabbing me by the chin.
“Open.” He gives my jaw a gentle squeeze, and I listen to him, parting my lips before he closes the distance and bites down on the berry, sliding it into my mouth with his tongue, some of the juice dribbling over my lip and down my chin.
“Good, isn’t it?” He pulls back to study my face.
“I prefer raspberries.”
“I bet you fucking do.”
He kisses me roughly then, grabbing me by the throat and pinning me up against the door. My head hits the wood, and his body’s so close to mine that I can feel how hard he is. I kiss him back and reach for the button on his pants. His hand tightens around my throat though and he pulls away from me.
“No. First, we get you what you want so badly. When you take my cock, I want you to be able to appreciate the difference.”
