Page 275 of Fatality

I grunt and look down at her fist before meeting her gaze again.

“You're fucking unbelievable.” I lean closer, my voice dropping into a low, intimate rumble. “I could throw you over my shoulder and rip that little dress right off you. Would you like that?”

I lift a hand and brush my bruised knuckles along her jawline.

“No.” She looks away from my gaze. “Try and I swear—”

“Mmh?” I lean in another inch, my knuckles continuing their slow descent from her neck to her collarbone, stopping at the top of her corset.

I feel my cock straining against my pants.

I slide my hand and brush my thumb against her nipple lightly, tracing the embroidery.

I watch a flush bloom across her cheeks, turning them pink, then red.

I chuckle and pull back, keeping one hand on her hip while the other slides to the side of her neck, my thumb brushing over the steady beat of her pulse.

“I got the device,” I say, straightening up. “Now, let's go before I really decide to tear that dress right off you.”

I turn, rest my hand against the small of her back, and guide her toward my Charger before opening the passenger door.

“After you, my lady.” I tease.

Her eyes widen before she instantly looks away.

“Tsk.” She scoffs and slides into the seat.

I smile, making sure the hem of her dress is safely inside before closing the door. Then I walk around to my side and slide behind the wheel.

“Tsk all you want.” I start the engine. “I'll tear that dress off once we're done with this shit.”

I pull away from the curb and drive off.

Fast.

But not the way I usually do, it feels like I'm crawling at ten miles an hour when the speedometer says sixty.

My hand moves from the gear lever to her thigh.

She tenses but doesn’t pull away or slap it.

My Charger looks completely out of place in the Upper Layers.

It is.

Its reinforced chassis can withstand repeated collisions, powered by an overclocked engine and a high-output boost system.

I stripped out most of the safety systems, while a partial signal-masking module reduces tracking at the cost of stability.

Finished in black and red, it has a wide stance, exposed mechanical components, and battle-scarred bodywork.

Compared to the sleek cars around here, it's a mountain surrounded by floating silver eggs.

“We’re here.” She points.

CHAPTER 58

Riven