Page 47 of Petrify

His other hand roughly grabs my breast. The timid man from last night has been replaced by one wholly demanding. “Do you think that’s smart? Offering yourself to me like this? When I am so eager to take from you?”

His fingers trail down to the band of my underwear, then further, between my legs, fingers moving the fabric over to findmy desire for him leaking out of me. My thighs widen on their own.

The hand gripping my jaw forces my head back against the mirror. He’s going to leave bruises, his fingers digging into my flesh, but I can’t be bothered to care, because his other hand is rubbing at my center and stealing my breath.

He shoves a finger into me. “I’ve never—” He groans, his hips pressing into his hand, forcing his finger deeper into me. “I need to own you. I need to touch you. Everywhere. Until I know everything. I want to make you feel so good it hurts.”

His finger moves in and out of me and there’s no resistance. Electricity is already sparking through my hips. I bite my lip at the feel of his erection against my thigh, only a layer of fabric separating us.

“Does this feel good?” he asks.

I nod.

“Please tell me,” he breathes, his thumb skates across my neck, seeking out the pulse on each side, skating across the artery.

“It feels good,” I say, breathy, and then he’s tightening his hand around my throat at the same time he adds another finger, and in seconds, I’m shattering against him, my vision turning to a black, spotty cloud.

“Boring,” he mocks, “even though I can make you come so quickly?”

I’m lightheaded as my pussy squeezes his fingers. He watches in dark fascination as my hips buck against his hand.

Then he lets go, allowing me to suck in a deep breath, as he reaches for his belt, and oh my god, he’s going to fuck me again.

Except this time it’s not dark and I can see everything, his mask and his eyes behind it and his cock and the dusting of hair on his stomach. My hips are at the perfect height on the edgeof the vanity for him to press the head of his cock against my center.

My toes curl in anticipation.

“How does that feel?” he asks, leaning forward, bringing his face closer to mine. The movement pushes him into me—just an inch.

My ankles wrap around his hips. “So good.”

He slides in slow, letting out a shuddering breath as my core squeezes around him. “You’re so—fuck,” he grits out through his teeth.

Pressing in one more inch.

My legs wind around him, my teeth cutting into my lip. I need him to chase away the ache, need him to fuck away everything but this moment. I don’t want to think, don’t want to worry about the Beauchenes or my job here or my life in the city or anything else.

“Does my cock feel good?”

My muscles clench involuntarily, wiping every thought from my mind as I moan.

He presses the rest of the way in one thrust.

My back arches, nails digging into the table. “So fucking good.”

He holds himself there, like last time, all the way so our hips are flush with each other. My mouth hangs open, breaths coming in quick pants.

I grow impatient at the stillness, grinding my hips.

“You’ll never be rid of me if you don’t stop that.” He’s gripping the table, knuckles white. Dark eyes, a deep brown, I notice, half-lidded with his lust.

“I—Please move.”

“Like this?” He drags his cock out.

I almost whine. “Like that.”

“You make me an animal,” he says, masked face only an inch from mine. It would take nothing to reach up and rip it away. “I want to know I’ll be dripping out of you later. It’s our little secret, isn’t it?”