Page 53

As I round the corner toward the back wing, warm light spills from a single window.

It’s our bathroom. I ease closer, quiet as death. Through the glass, I see her.

Arianette is in the shower. Her hair is tucked up into a cap. Water cascades down her dark skin as she runs soapy hands over her body. She’s scrubbing hard–like she’s trying to wash away the blood, the betrayal, the entire rotten day–until she suddenly slows. Her palms glide over her full breasts, thumbs brushing across the garnet rings in her nipples. She squeezes them, rolling the metal bars between her fingers with a slow, sensual touch that makes my cock throb instantly.

I’m frozen in place, heart hammering against my ribs.

She keeps going, one hand sliding down her stomach, dipping between her thighs. Her fingers part her pussy lips, spreading soap and slickness as she washes herself. Two fingers dip inside, then come back up to circle her clit with lazy, thorough strokes. The piercing there catches the light every time she moves.

My mouth goes dry. My cock is rock hard, straining painfully against my joggers.

Ares lets out a loud yip beside me, but I barely register it when he darts off across the yard. Arianette’s head snaps toward the window. Her eyes widen for a split second, aware she’s not alone. Fear tremors across her skin, pebbling the flesh. I tilt my head, letting the light hit my face. Recognition hits, and she sees me standing there in the dark, watching her.

She could stop, or I could walk away. Neither of us make that move.

Instead, she keeps touching herself. Her fingers move faster over her clit while her other hand tugs on her nipple. Her lips part on a soft moan I can’t hear, but can perfectly imagine.

This woman knows about my fantasies. She knows how they formed who I am. How they almost got me killed. She should be repulsed, but her eyes are locked in on mine, and that’s all I need to shove my joggers down just enough to free my cock. The cold air hits my heated skin as I wrap my fist around myself and start stroking hard, pulling roughly while I watch her.

We stay like that for what feels like forever–me jerking my cock in the shadows while she fingers her pretty, pierced pussy for me. I think about how soft her skin must be, what it’d be like to touch her, feel every inch of her body. She’s always beautiful but like this? Lips parted, nipples hard, hips chasing friction. She’s no longer just Arianette. She’s a goddess.

The tip of my cock weeps, precum slick under my thumb. One hand shoots out to hold onto the windowsill. The tension builds fast and vicious. I’m so close it fucking hurts.

Then she suddenly stops.

Breathing heavy, I watch Arianette turn off the shower, water still dripping down her body, and walk straight to the window. She opens it.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” I swallow, hand still clenched around my dick like a vise. And because I’m horny as fuck, I ask, “Why’d you stop?”

“Because I wanted you to come in here,” she says, turning those big eyes on me. “Because I want you to be the one touching me.”

“You know I can’t,” I choke out, torn between anger at myself, frustration, and overwhelming arousal.

“You can. I want you to.” She leans forward, water droplets rolling down her breasts. “Please, Hunter. I’m not afraid of you.”

No woman has ever begged me to touch her. Especially not one who knows exactly what these hands are capable of.

I want to pretend like I think it over. Like, I gave it some serious fucking consideration, but that’s just bullshit. I started losing the thread of control with Arianette a long time ago, and it was always going to come down to this.

I climb through the window in one rough motion. My clothes hit the tile floor in seconds, and I reach for her, grabbing her by the back of the head and pulling her into a hard kiss. Her mouth is hot and sweet. Desperate. Tongue battling mine, but there’s no mistaking who’s dominant here.

“Get on your knees,” I command.

Arianette drops quickly down to the wet tile without hesitation. When she looks up at me, I think I may come on the spot.

“Open your mouth.”

Her jaw drops, and I thread my fingers into her bonnet and yank it off. Her hair spills over her shoulders. I tilt her head back until she’s looking up at me.

“Wider.”

Her mouth opens, tongue flat. Perfect. So fucking perfect. Leaning over her, I give this girl what I’ve been wanting to for so long, and let a long, slow stream of spit flow between us, ending on her flattened tongue.

“Swallow.”

She closes her mouth, throat working as she takes it in. “Good girl. You like swallowing me?”