Page 119 of The Wicked
“And they don’t get offended?”
“I don’t think they realize it. They’re always pretty distracted with other parts of me.”
My lips curled, and my hand moved from his arm to his thigh. He tensed up even more at my touch, but he didn’t ask me to stop, and I didn’t. “Would you like to kiss me, Elio?” I asked, breathing through my slightly parted lips, my anticipation growing.
“It’s too intimate,” he said.
“Well, would you like to fuck me then?”
His pupils grew large, lust covering the dark, somber sense his eyes had carried earlier, and I fucking lived for it.
“Absolutely fucking not,” he answered.
My gaze flickered to his crotch, spotting his hard-on. “Yeah, but you’re so hard it looks painful,” I said, pressing my thighs together to ease the fervent need between them.
“That’s normal. I’m intoxicated from a pill that gets me highand horny, you’re touching my thigh, and we’re talking about sex. I’m bound to be aroused.”
I noticed the change in his breathing, the way he couldn’t keep his gaze from falling to my mouth.
I removed my hand from his thigh and slid Dog’s jacket off me, arching my back a little. The action had his eyes dropping to my chest, and I was positive he was looking at the outline of my pierced nipples.
What the fuck am I doing?
Blame it on the drugs.
I watched Elio swallow before tentatively raising his gaze to lock with mine. “Zahra—”
I moved. Rose from my position, and straddled his thighs, angling the heat between my legs over his erection. A shivering breath left me when I settled my hands on his shoulders and pressed my throbbing clit against his arousal, the fabric of my panties and his pants the only thing stopping skin-to-skin contact.
“Fuck,” Elio breathed out, voice edgy and hoarse, and I felt myself grow wetter at the sound.
Our gazes locked, and Elio’s big hands covered the space between my hips and waist, holding me in place and stopping me from moving as his chest heaved. “Stop, we can’t.” Was it possible for someone to sound like sin and lust, because that was exactly how this man sounded, and it was fucking with my mind.
Our warmth was one, bodies connected, heat joined. And I was scorching with need, the need to move, rub my clit against him, create friction, and fucking get off because, damn hell, he felt so good against me. So thick, long, and hard, fuck—I wanted to see him and touch him.
“This is a bad fucking idea, Zahra,” he grunted.
“I have a thing for bad ideas.”
“My brother, he—”
I leaned closer to him, my chest pressing against his, nipples sensitive against his warm chest.
Elio’s gaze dropped to my lips as I responded, “Makes it even hotter.”
His hips jerked, and I hissed at the spike of pleasure that shot through me from that little friction.
One of his hands remained firm on my hips while the other left to cup the side of my face, his fingers curling underneath my ear and the back of my neck, holding me in place, almost like he was stopping me from kissing him.
“I don’t want to do this,” he rasped.
“I don’t want to either,” I whispered.
Our breathing was loud, faces only inches apart. His grip on the back of my neck tightened, and he leaned in.
“My brother’s going to kill me,” he said breathily against my lips.
“Who’s gonna tell him?”
