Page 59 of The Betrothal

“Killer.”

Her hips slammed down onto me, taking me to the hilt and she cried out.

“Killer, are you okay?” I froze.

She straightened and looked down on me. But I didn’t see pain. I saw need, burning, matching my own.

She rose and lowered herself, once then twice, her mouth parted and she nodded slowly. “I’m great.”

Thank God. Her body clenched and the feeling could only be compared to a vice. She grinned. Okay.

“Good girl, Killer.” My smile turned to absolute filth and I snatched up her hands.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ISABELLE

My hands were tugged behind my back and held at the base of my spine, ensnared in just one of Seb’s. His other hand roved over my body, gripping and cupping every single curve.

“Oh,” I moaned and his smile widened, tightening his hold on my wrists he tugged, the movement drawing my arms further behind me and pushing my chest forwards. Seb’s mouth parted at the view and his tongue pressed against his canine. He looked ready to devour me.

A sharp pinch of my nipple on the way past, Seb’s hands returned to my waist, closing around my hip he rolled me over him and I didn’t need him to tell me to keep the rhythm.

As if unable to keep his hands still, his fingers danced over my underwear, the material valiantly trying to maintain my modesty despite being pulled aside around where we joined. He tugged on the soft fabric, pulling it tightly over my clit, the friction pushing my arousal higher.

“Seb,” I whimpered. I’d never felt like this before. I wanted more.

His fingers holding my underwear tightened, the cut of the textile against my sensitive flesh making me cry out.

“Next time these come off,” he whispered.

I nodded frantically.

“I want to see all of you,” he demanded.

I nodded again.

“Ready, Killer?”

I opened my mouth to ask for what, but he drove up into me, hitting a place that had light dancing behind my eyes. “Ooooh. God.”

“Right there?” He did it again, beginning to hammer the same spot over and over, he pulled against my underwear, my clit throbbing at the pressure. The slightest touch and I was going to come.

“I’m… Seb…” I panted. “I’m close.”

His chuckle was evil. “Oh, I know.”

A finger glanced over my clit and I bucked, pulling at my wrists. His grip tightened.

“You can take it, Killer.” His finger touched me again, this time with slightly more pressure.

“I want it.” I needed it. Now.

“Impatient.” He tutted. “Okay, but in addition to no panties, next time we will have no hands either.”

My eyes flew wide. Not a chance, I’d never climaxed without touching my clit, not alone, and definitely not with anyone else. Getting an orgasm out of the men I’d been with was a tall enough order.

“Killer?” He’d slowed, keeping up the softest movement of his hips, teasing me, waiting.