Page 100 of Red Masquerade

“Come,” he growled, eyes wholly pitch-dark. “I don’t want you walking after this.”

My muscles fluttered under him, my core clenching around him as he pumped in and out. He fucked me mercilessly, the sensations fizzling into my limbs, until the pleasure built up again and I thought I’d fall apart.

It was so good it hurt.

He was merciless, and I could do nothing but watch as he took over my body completely, like I could only breathe because he was inside me. Like I couldn’t think of anything else, my sole focus on the man fucking me until I was a pliable plaything, only for him. He rutted into me like he owned me, like it was all we were meant to do.

Something in me told me to submit, an inherent feeling, a drive to please him, to milk his pleasure out of him and into me.

“I’m going to come in this cunt,” he said, his thrust growing harsher, deeper. “I’m going to get myself so far into you that everyone will know.”

I’m yours.

I sighed, ecstasy flowing through me.

And when he came, it was with an animalistic shout, his hands holding me down, his teeth once more finding my throat. He held me down like prey, nearly puncturing my skin with his teeth, somehow finding the restraint in that moment to keep himself from drawing blood. His hips jerked into me, and I could feel him spilling out of me before he’d even finished.

I welcomed it. I wanted him to imprint upon me. I wanted to become so completely his.

It took him a few moments to still, for the throes of our pleasure to begin to fade. Every single sensation was heightened, buzzing through me, every brush of his skin against mine making my muscles jerk.

He circled his tongue on my throat, retracting the press of his teeth, but sucking the skin there. His hands were still at my hips, holding me flush against him, and he thrusted idly, his cock slick with both of our cum.

I couldn’t breathe, the only barrier between his tongue and my pulse a thin layer of skin.

He pulled away, just enough to speak, his lips still brushing against my flesh. “Do not forget who I am,” he said, and though he still held me like a lover, I sensed there was a darkness to his words. “Who I amto you.”

“How could I forget?” I said, brushing my lips against his cheek.

He chuckled darkly. “Remember those words when you ask me your questions again.”

He withdrew from me, and I felt empty, so totally sated, that it wasn’t until he was out of sight, disappearing into the bathroom to clean himself, that I realized the weight of his words, settling into me like a poison ready to stop my heart.

Thirty-Four

Ilay on the bed with my fingers on my chest, feeling the rise and fall of my chest, the frantic beating of my heart underneath my fingertips. My whole body was flushed a rosy pink, spent and sated.

Could he hear my heartbeat from the bathroom? Did he know how wildly it pumped for him?

It was an effort to calm my breathing, to slow my pulse. I didn’t want to move. My limbs were tired and my core ached. Every breath only pushed the leftover dregs of lust throughout my body. It was perhaps a good thing Vince had separated himself from me, because I was sure if he hadn’t stopped kissing me, I would be stuck in that bed all evening.

I had only just resolved to roll over when he emerged from the bathroom, still naked, his lean body on display. The toned muscles of his arms flexed as he made his way to me, his broadshoulders and chest shadowed by the dim lamp lights. His eyes found me first, his pupils back to normal. He had tried to fix the mess I’d made of his hair, clearly having run his palms over the dark waves.

“Have you caught your breath, darling?”

My mind wasn’t my own. I resisted the urge to offer myself to him again, pulling the robe around me once more. The soft fabric did nothing to cool me down. “Almost. Will you let me rest?”

He laughed. “You say that as though I am insatiable.”

“Maybe you are,” I hummed, sliding off the bed.

He stopped before me, close enough to touch, but he kept his hands at his sides. “I want to show you something.” And though he tried to direct both our thoughts elsewhere, I caught the way his gaze lingered on my thighs. “The roof.”

“The roof?”

His eyes snapped back up to mine. “Yes. We must dress.”

“I thought you said I could remain naked in this house if I wished it,” I said, even though I slunk around him toward the wardrobe.