Page 17

Watching him, I sip tentatively from the rim. Bubbles explode over my tongue and tickle my nose, but Dio, the taste. It’s dry and bitter.

Spitting it back into the glass, I cough, eyes watering.

“All right, easy,” he says, slipping the glasses away. “I guess that was your first drink.”

Standing upright, I wipe my face, cheeks hot. He lifts my chin higher, roughly rubbing his thumb across my bottom lip and the spit on my chin. I don’t cower, but freeze, fighting the urge to melt at his touch.

No one touches me. Heat blooms across my middle and over my chest. I’ve been missing out.

“You all messy is definitely a turn-on,” he murmurs. “Takes the sting out of you fucking up my plan.”

Stupidly, I lean into his hand. It’s not gentle, hell, it’s not even nice. But the pressure, the hold, the ownership, makes me feel precious. Protected. I’m a gem he doesn’t want to lose, and I soak it up. I don’t know when I’ll get this moment again.

Mio Dio, I must be pathetic to allow this stranger access to my body.

His hand moves, slipping to the back of my skull, and he wrings his hand in my locks. Twisting, he pins me back against the wall, bodies pressed close. I moan, his weight foreign but desperately needed.

“Such pretty sounds,” he whispers, the other hand gripping my skirt into a bunch. He doesn’t lift it, but the tremble in his muscles says enough. “Do you make them for anyone who touches you?”

I shake my head.

“Are you really innocent?” His mask lowers closer, and I shake under his gaze.

I nod. A confession I shouldn’t give.

He groans, something painful. “You shouldn’t tell dangerous men that, Sunshine. They get all sorts of ideas. Dirty, horrible thoughts. It’s hard to stop once we do.”

For some reason, I like that. I enjoy knowing because I’ve never been touched, it drives him insane with need. Him, a perfect stranger, and I’ve broken some part of his twisted mind.

His fingers pull up my skirt, aching slowly, gripping my bare leg through the slit. Soft and lean, they dig into the meat of my thigh, holding it to his hip. Stepping back, I curve my leg around his waist.

Only a few pieces of fabric separate us, and I whimper. Fucking whimper.

If I were smarter, I’d stop this. But I don’t.

“Those sounds,” he murmurs, voice dark. “I want to devour them.”

He moves the barest bit, and my core flutters.

Oh. Oh. That is very new.

Panting, I slip my fingers under his mask. He doesn’t stop me. Grinding into me again, his cock hard against his pants, I fight another moan. Shocks of pleasure shoot through me, and I bite my lip.

The mask pulls away, but the shadows hide his face. He’s as unknown as I am, but now I can feel the sharpness of his cheekbones, his jaw, and the hair on his brow. He’s beautiful—and it’s a shame I can’t see it.

He grinds against me again, eliciting a groan.

This is all so new. I’ve never been allowed this pleasure. Yet, with this man, he doesn’t worry about the consequences; he wants me, and he will have me.

There’s something insanely powerful about being desired this badly.

I sign, “Kiss me,” and then curse myself. He doesn’t know ASL, and he can’t see me.

But he seems to understand. The hand in my hair turns painful, wrenching me closer. Cock straining against me, I meet him without caution.

His touch brands, like the flickering of flame on skin.

Devouring my lips, I moan into his mouth. He steals the air from my lungs, inhaling as I exhale. Crushing me to the wall, he holds my head, moving me to better taste my mouth. His tongue tangles with mine, and my knees tremble. All I can do is hold on and follow his lead.