I mean, it is an ass blessed by the Goddess, afterall.
My spine arches from how hard I lift up and then ever so slowly lower back down.
“Stop,” he grinds out.
And I too grind.
All. Over. Again.
With force, he pulls my hair and yanks me harder. I gasp, and I think that just makes it—yeah, it makes itharderfor him…
“I said stop it!”
“Then stop fucking tormenting your friends!” I growl right back at him.
“That’s not what we’re talking about, and you know it!” he whisper-screams in my ear, all hot and bothered and so, so sexy.
“Really? Then what are we talking about, Zilo? Tell me.” Behind my back, my fingers spread wide, and I’m shocked at how slow he is to pull away as my nails lightly drag over the hard outline in his pants. But he does pull away. He puts so much space between us I bet he’d solicit the Goddess herself to take pity on his hellish soul and pull him away from a girl like me entirely if he could.
A tic in his jaw pulses with rage or lust, or maybe that’s his disturbing orgasm face for all I know. But he’s definitely fuming at me, for good or bad reasons is anyone’s guess.
“I-I,” he stutters, not even able to get two words out before he’s pacing the room on booming steps. “I’ll deter Prince Ravar’s commands for punishment as much as I can.”
“And I’ll deter myattitudeas much as I can,” I say with poised rationality.
A pressing memory of how good he felt against me lingers in my mind with a taunting shiver I can’t contain.
Those heavy, prying eyes of his skim my features, searching me out while I simply gaze back at his barbaric disbelief.
“Fine.” He nods once.
I nod.
He does it again.
I do it once more.
And by his third time of him rattling his little puppy dog brain, it occurs to me that he’s still thinking about it.
And now I am too.
He’s just so big. Every part of him is weaponized strength. It should be scary. But instead, it’s sexy.
I’m seducing the Prince of Hell.
It’s my job.
At the moment though, I’m mentally undressing the Highest High Hell of the Prince’s guard. Even worse, he’s eye fucking me right back.
It’s a flame of heat to feel his attention warm against my skin. The memory of his body pressing down on mine feels like the weight is still there. The spot where his knee parted my thighs is fresh in my mind, and that pressure too is still present against my core.
Too, too present.
“You should leave,” I blurt suddenly.
His eyes widen as if I just threatened him.
“It’s my fuckin’ room,” he argues.
