Page 46 of Scarred Ruin

Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.

The saying had never meant more than it did tonight.

As he pumped his fingers inside my pussy, he flexed them open and the vibrations boosted until I was constantly digging my heels into the bed. His hold on me was firm, keeping me from trying to escape.

Did he really think I believed that possible?

He spread me open wider, still watching me. Was he even smiling? I forced myself to look away as heat built across my cheeks. I was embarrassed and mostly from how much I was enjoying what he was doing.

Every thrust of his fingers and tongue drove me to a higher plateau.

Every heated breath scattered across my aching pussy pushed me closer to a climax.

And when he dared pinch and twist my clit, highly strangled moans slipped from my lips.

Every action he made seemed calculated, including when he slowed his actions. He brushed the flat of his tongue up and down so slowly I was at the point of begging him to let me come.

Another slap of the belt and I lolled my head to the side. I shouldn’t want this or him. I couldn’t imagine why I was so wet, craving even more. Why? Why did I feel anything at all?

He was masterful, bringing me utter satisfaction. I didn’t realize I’d released my hold on his thick strands of hair until I felt the softness of the comforter I was gripping so tightly it could rip. I yanked it, stretching my body as the climax neared.

Stars had already floated in front of my eyes and the wild passion was just beginning. There was no need to command me to do anything.

There was no fighting the inevitable.

My body was shaking, my mind in a sweet fog and within the next few seconds, there was no holding back. The orgasm was powerful relief, sweeping through me like a tidal wave of pleasure.

I’d rarely allowed myself to relax this way with any man before.

Certainly not with my ex.

The pleasure was so amazing, but I stifled every cry, every whimper by biting my lip. Now I tasted blood. He wanted me off kilter. What did he think would happen after this? Or did he even care?

When Maxsim pulled his fingers free, I bit my lower lip again to keep from whimpering at the loss. He pressed his lips against the inside of one thigh then the other before standing. There was such an air about him. Yes, of arrogance and entitlement but also of something I couldn’t pinpoint.

Perhaps a sadness based on his loss. I had to wonder if a man of such great power had any peace. That he was forced to walk around with men in tow carrying weapons to keep him safe was unfathomable.

But to him, it was just another day.

Did he feel freedom or was he nothing more than a prisoner of his own making? The question was one I wouldn’t be able to answer today if ever.

Besides, why was I wasting time trying to dissect his life when he was standing over me, peering down with raging hunger on his face?

And a body meant for sin.

What was it about him that had allowed me to feel something I’d never intended?

I honestly didn’t know.

He wasn’t the kind of man to smile often, but he’d let his hair down with me.

Did he see what he was doing to me? Well, of course he did. He’d played me in the same way as I’d played him. And in truth, I’d loved every minute of it.

Why was I doing this to myself? I didn’t give a damn about the man or his feelings.

He was willing me to watch him, tormenting me as I’d done with him earlier.

When he was fully undressed, I was torn with the anger and hatred I had for both him and myself while enjoying the view.