Page 22 of Velvet Thorns
He picks up his glass and raises it, and they meet with the softest clink. But I’m the only one who actually takes a sip. I set my glass down, take his from his hand, and place it next to mine, then fist a handful of his shirt and drag him to the bed.He stumbles back onto the mattress with a rough grunt, catching himself on his elbows. I climb over him, settling across his hips as my dress rides up my thighs. I plant both hands on his chest, feeling the steady thump of a heart that has no idea what’s about to hit it.
“So,” I whisper, dragging my nails lightly down the center of his chest. “You like being fucked by strangers, quarterback? Ever done it like this before?”
His breath catches, pupils blown wide with want. “Never like this.”
My hands trail lower, pulling his shirt up, inch by torturous inch, exposing skin that's been kissed by the sun and ink that’s practically screaming for my mouth. “Have you ever begged for it?”
Phoenix smirks, but it falters the moment my fingertips graze his ribs. His hands slide up my thighs, fingers skating high enough to brush the edge of my panties.
God, I hate the way he touches me.
I hate that it makes me ache.
“Never needed to. But I might make an exception tonight.”
“Give me your hands.” He obeys without a word, and I trap his wrists in mine, pushing them hard against the headboard.
I grab the black silk sash I placed under my pillow before the reunion started, before I even laid eyes on him, when this was still just a fantasy of revenge. Now he’s spread out beneath me like an offering, wrists bound, chest rising and falling like he’s already drowning. No power. No control. Just Phoenix Cassidy unraveling.
“No touching unless I give you permission,” I whisper against his ear.
“You’re not gonna hear me complain… Take whatever you need.”
He thinks this is foreplay. Some slow-burn tease leading to a night of sweaty bodies and masked-up sex, but he couldn’t be more wrong. This is ten years of rage dressed up in silk and seduction.
I grind down on him, slow and deliberate, not for his pleasure, but to feel exactly how much damage he can still do to me. Andthe sickest part? It’s a devastating amount. He’s hard beneath me, and my body reacts before I can stop it.
Phoenix groans, his head tipping back, veins standing out against his throat. “Fuck, Annie, you feel so fucking good.”
The sound of that name—Annie—turns my stomach into knots. He still has no idea, not a fucking clue, who’s on top of him, and I hate how much it stings. I hate that I care at all.
Why am I even doing this?
The thoughts gnaw at me, but I shove them aside. I keep moving, teasing him with every slow roll of my body until his abs lock up and his hands jerk against the silk restraints like he’s ready to tear them apart just to get to me.
“I swear to god,” he grits out, breathless and wrecked. “You need to fucking move or get me out of these pants before I lose my goddamn mind.”
I tilt my head slowly, mockingly, and reach for the waistband of his jeans. I undo them with agonizing slowness, each snap and button drawn out, every movement meant to make him squirm. My hands are trembling, but I try to hide it as I peel his jeans and boxer briefs down just enough for him to spring free.
Shit—it’s Phoenix.
Phoenix’s cock.
Him.
He’s thick and flushed, and the head is swollen, slick with a bead of precum. I just stare, caught somewhere between denial and hunger, trying to convince myself it’s nothing. That it’s just a man, just another cock, nothing worth remembering. But my body knows better, and there’s no pretending this doesn’t matter.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him like this, and suddenly, my body and mind start to blur, everything fusing together until I force myself to snap out of it.
“Someone’s a little excited,” I murmur, rolling my hips downjust to watch his cock twitch beneath me, like it’s trying to answer for him.
“Someone wants to fuck you ’til you’re soaked and dripping down my dick,” he growls, his eyes glued to the spot where our bodies almost touch.
I tilt my head, feigning innocence, while dragging my hips forward again. “If you want me, then you’ll use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me exactly what you want to do to me.” I lean in, my lips grazing the shell of his ear. “Or I could just untie you, leave you with your cock hard and nothing to fuck but your own hand. Your choice.”
“Fuck that,” he snarls, yanking at the restraints like he actually thinks he could break them. He won’t. I made sure of that. “I'm not leaving this room.”
“Then tell me.”
