Page 86 of Pink Ink

The barest little broken moan escapes her, and my eyes damn well nearly roll to the back of my head when her thighs crush my hand.

The flimsy fabric of her tights gives way beneath my fingers, and a hole tears right above the entrance to her sex.

“Maddox!” She gawks at me, squirming and flicking her gaze between me and the man at the other end of the car. He’s quickly forgotten the second my knuckle is back against her clit, addingjustthe right amount of pressure to bring her close to the edge without taking her to the end.

Her glare is vicious when I stop.

I don’t bother hiding my smirk. “Are you going to tell me what I want to hear, or will I need to find out for myself?” I can feel her wetness through the fabric, but I want her to say it. When she doesn’t answer, I pull my hand away. If looks could kill, she’d be making art out of me. “So?”

Through gritted teeth, Reyna grinds out a demanding “Yes.”

In a single motion, her panties are pushed to the side and my fingers find home. Her warm cunt clamps down around me, and I almost finish like a fucking teenager. Moisture soaks my hand. It feels illegal that I can’t sit her on my cock this very second. I curl my fingers and grin triumphantly when she slaps her hand over her mouth to cover her squeak.

Her addictive scent fills my lungs as I nuzzle my nose into her hair and whisper against the shell of her ear. “I’m just making sure you aren’t telling me another lie.”

Shudders work through her frame, staring up at me through glazed brown eyes. I feel like a fucking king. I draw out of her to slide another digit in, pumping them until she’s struggling to stay upright in her seat.

Reyna lets out a sound of betrayal when I pull out of her to slide her saturated underwear back in place, rubbing her over the fabric. I bite back my grin and pretend not to notice her glaring at me in disbelief as I right her clothes, making sure her skirt is lowered and her coat covers her legs for warmth.

Reyna is too focused on murdering me in her mind to notice we’ve come to another stop and one more person has come to join us in the car.

“Put your headphones on, look out of the window, and pretend I’m not here,” I tell her once the doors close and we’re trudging along the tracks.

She does none of those things, shooting daggers at my profile the entire time I respond to emails on my phone, sliding my hand up and down her inner thigh, dangerously close to her core only to deny her what she wants.

If my cock is throbbing, then it’s only fair that she’s suffering too.

The mutual torture lasts several long, painful minutes before we get to our stop and she all but shoves me out of the seat and storms out of the subway, leaving me in the wind. The brat makes me jog to catch up to her and grab her elbow just to get her to stop.

“What?” she barks, whirling to face me.

Something tells me she won’t receive my shit-eating grin well, so I only just manage to keep it at bay. Without a word, I grab the scarf from around my neck and wrap it around hers, then forge ahead without her so that it’s her turn to huff and walk faster to catch up to me.

It’s only a twenty-minute walk to the house, but due to Reyna’s most unfortunate wardrobe malfunction, I hail us a cab and use the willpower not even God possesses to stop myself from warming her pussy for her.

The silence must do us some good because by the time we’re dropped off a block away from our destination and moving around to the back of the house, Reyna no longer looks like she wants to stage my murder.

Yes, she’s vibrating, but it’s with the gleam of an artist about to start a new project. I had the exact same look three nights ago as I was climbing up the steps of the back porch.

Jeremy Warren lived in a slice of suburbia fit for a recently divorced Michelin chef who threatened to kill his ex-wife and child and left them with nothing while he got to keep the backyard and the white picket fence.

Like we’ve done this dance before, we search through the windows of Jeremy’s house and our surroundings for signs of life before facing each other.

“Remember, you asked for this. If I go down, you’re going down with me” is all the warning I get before Reyna rummages through her satchel, slides her hands into latex gloves, pulls out a black plastic container, glances around, then walks right up to the back door.

I arch a brow as she lowers herself to her haunches, right at eye level with my cock, which is twitching with the wrong idea. I fully harden when she opens the container and starts picking the lock.

Committing a felony with my student is not quite the field trip I expected. One may even call it a date.

Color me shocked and feral when the door clicks open in under three minutes. I don’t think I’ve been this turned on by something so mundane in my life.

Reyna stands, brows pinched, shooting me a hesitant look. Her apprehension sets me on edge. Perhaps I’ve read her wrong, and she sees the person behind the art as a villain, abhorring the sin while appreciating the nuances only from a lens.

“You’re really okay with this?” she asks carefully. “It’s… this is illegal.”

Christ, isn’t she just adorable. I nod. “Of course.”

“Someone—” She cuts herself off like she wants to choose her words carefully. “Somebody died in there. It won’t be a pretty sight. You can wait outside if that’s what you’re more comfortable with.”