Page 48 of Painted Scars
“Is this your first time doing this with someone?” I need to know how gentle she wants it.
I ache to shed my helmet and devour every inch of her. Feel her breath caress my neck. One tilt of her chin, and she’ll find my mouth. Not yet. Not until I know she’s not one of them.
“Yes.” Her breathy moan has my dick jumping.
Good. The dark, depraved part of me purrs like my bike. I’m the first. I’ll be the only. I slide my palm from her chin down her throat, between her breasts, cupping her heat, dragging one finger over her slick folds.
“Is this what you want?” Consent is the last part of me that’s clean. The last part I won’t compromise. “For the monster watching you from the shadows to tease your pussy and worship you? I need you to say it, baby.”
“Give it to me.” Her hoarse begging is all the consent I need.
Dear, God. I’m going to Hell, and I’ll go smiling.
“Gloves or no gloves?” I tighten my grip on her leg.
“With.” No hesitation.
I’ll take her to the edge of danger.
“Lube?” She deserves rough edges without pain.
“Top drawer, left-hand side,” she whispers and bites her lip.
I slick my leathered fingers with lubricant and move back to her. The cold bite against her hot flesh draws a gasp, and goddamn, it nearly unravels me. I’m the weapon unworthy of her and aching for her anyway. I stroke her clit and slide a finger in. Fuck, she’s tight. Perfect. Made for me. She guides my wrist, showing me exactly what she needs, and I adjust.
“Do you want it harder, Glitter Bomb?”
She thrusts against my hand, giving me my answer.
“That’s it. Ride what your villain gives you.”
And does she ever. Wild, writhing, and unrepentant.
“Look at you,” I rasp, relishing the way she fucks my fingers. “My good girl getting off on my gloved hand.”
She goes feral at the praise, her hips grinding against me, chasing her release. The sound she makes as she climaxes is pure sin and salvation, and it rockets straight to my spine. I can’t hold it anymore. I need her caged under me, screaming for me.
I scoop her into my arms and carry her to the headboard. I lean on my hand, hovering above her. She rolls to the side, shoving at my chest.
I freeze. “What’s wrong?”
She straddles my thighs, reclaiming her power. “I want to be on top.”
Ah. She needs control. I can give her that.
I just need to settle some ground rules. “If this is a home invasion fantasy, don’t I get to set the conditions?”
A blush spreads across her cheeks. “Can we start with… a semi-home invasion?”
Bravado fades and reality sets in for both of us. She can’t see my face. Can’t identify me.
Time to set a stipulation of my own. “Then we do it my way.”
She swallows. “What way is that?”
“I’ll show you.” I lift her off my lap, spin her gently, and press her back to my chest. One arm hugs her belly, the other covers her eyes.
She tenses. Ragged breaths heave out of her. Her back arches away. Hands claw at mine with panic and instinct. This position makes her vulnerable and exposes her.
