Page 39 of Ash and Poison

He paced once, then stilled, eyes scanning the walls like he sensed something was off but couldn’t place it. He didn’t know it, but the room was his cage, and I had the key.

“Did she go to his place?” he growled, punching the wall. “He isn’t going to satisfy you,” he said. “Not like I could have.”

“But you didn’t come to my room to fuck me, Maddox. You came here to kill me,” I said, glaring at the screen.

He pulled my bag open and sifted through it, his movements sharp and deliberate.

“You came prepared,” he said, eyes narrowing.

Then he threw the bag to the floor and kicked it hard. It hit the wall and the contents spilled out of the gaping bag.

Cursing, he grabbed my lace underwear with one finger, twirling it around, desire darkening his eyes. “What the fuck is this? Is that supposed to cover anything?” Groaning, he sat down with a curse, and pressed my panties to his nose, taking in a deep breath.

“Oh, fuck.”

My body heated in response.

His eyes were hazy as he pulled his pants down, his breath heavy.

Pervy Pussycat.

He moaned louder, cupping his erection through his boxers, pressing my thongs to his face.

This man was so fucking shameless.

So was I. SO WAS I.

Sweat trailed between my breasts, and my throat went dry. Water. I needed water. Grabbing a bottle, I gulped it down, but the heat still raged.

I wanted to beg him to remove the boxers, to show me everything. The need to see him was a violent ache inside me. I jerked back, eyes wide, when he finally removed his boxers.

“Oh…”

He was hard. Big, but not too big. Just perfect. He’d fit me like a puzzle piece.

Placing the laptop on my bed, I leaned against the headboard, panting, moaning as he ran a finger up and down his cock, eyes half closed.

“You’re gorgeous,” I whispered, crossing my legs, feeling the slick wetness drenching my panties. “Fuck. That… I want that.”

He sat down, his fingers around his cock, his nose buried in the lacy lining, taking my scent in with everything he had. With a soft groan, his fingers began to move.

Cursing, I rubbed my clit, creating a delicious tingle.

He groaned, moving faster, and after a few minutes, cum spurted out of his cock, making a mess on the old carpet. He pressed his cock to my panties… and shuddered, cursing my name over and over. My body reacted to his orgasm, and I came with him, gasping, cursing, whispering his name as he moaned mine.

“Diya. Fuck.”

When he was done, he pulled his pants up and stared at my underwear with glazed eyes, his fingers prodding at his cum stain with a wince.

“Fuck me,” he mouthed, looking startled, like he had finally snapped out of the trance. “You fucking need a brain transplant, Asher,” he hissed, slamming his head against his palm with a groan. “You’ve gone stark raving mad. At this rate, she’ll kill you before you kill her.” Another slam of his head, this time against the pillow.

I watched with a grin as he cleaned my panties with tissues like that would make his cum stain disappear. He fell on the bed, staring at the ceiling, mumbling something under his breath.

After a while, he stood up from the bed.

“Are you going to come back anytime soon?” Cursing, he checked the clock. “You’re lucky I’ve something else to do right now.”

The bastard didn’t know this wasn’t luck. This was a trap.