Page 137 of The Devil We Crave
My face heats as my eyes dart to him again. He’s looking right at me, his eyes sweeping over my body as he gently pulls the shirt away from his nose. It's still bleeding from where my forehead hit it, but neither of us is focused on that.
My lip sucks between my teeth, and I quickly turn and reach for the blanket behind me. His hand lands on mine.
“Don’t,” he murmurs.
Before I realize what’s happened, he’s yanked me onto his lap and sat me astride it, facing him. I blush fiercely when I feel a throbbing thickness hot against my pussy, and my neurons short-circuit when I realize it’s his erection pressed against me. Heat blooms in my face, and I squirm as if to slide off his lap. But his grip on my hip tightens, keeping me right where I am.
“I—may I get dressed?” I murmur.
“No, you may not.”
He peers closely at me as he brings a hand up and brushes a lock of dark hair back from my face. He cups my jaw, and I shiver when his thumb brushes lightly over my bottom lip.
“I like you like this,” he murmurs.
I roll my eyes. “What, naked?Wow,shocking revelation?—”
“Exposed,” he growls.
My brows pinch together.
“Notjustnaked,” Achilles says, his lips curling at the corners. “Though I’m far from opposed to that.”
My core clenches.
“Butexposed. This is new for you, being like this with someone.”
I swallow. “You know it is,” I murmur.
He nods his head slowly. “You’re not just without clothes right now. You’re without all that armor you usually wear.”
I snort, looking away. “I don’t wear?—”
“Oh, yes,” he murmurs. “You do. But right now, it’s off, even though I can see you trying to put it back on.”
I smile curiously.
“Thisis what I like about you right now: you’re exposed and vulnerable, without your armor. That you’re not sure what your next biting comment or deflective sarcastic remark is going to be.” He lifts an amused brow. “And yes, the nakedness, too. I like the fact that my cum would be dripping out of your pussy right now if I hadn’t licked it out of you while you were sleeping.”
Heat erupts across my face.
“You…” I gulp. “You didn’t really?—”
“I did.”
Holy shit.
I want to be furious. I want to tell him how fucking wrong that is.
I also want to have alongdiscussion with myself about why that’sso hot.
“That’s…sick,” I mumble.
“If it’s sosick,” he growls, “then why do I know that if I were to slip my fingers into your pussy right now, I’d find itdripping wet? Does that makeyousick as well? Or do the two sicknesses cancel each other out?”
I stare at him. “You…Achilles…you can’t just—” I shake my head, turning to let my eyes wander over the cabin.
I remember collapsing exhausted after he fucked me against the table. I have a vague memory of him lifting me in his arms and carrying me to the couch.
