Page 90 of The Dead Don’t Scream

“Yes.”

“Good.”

I pull her hips backward and press her against the hard length beneath my coat. Sloane moans. I bend toward her ear.

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Safe word?”

“Graveyard.”

“Signal?”

She taps twice against the wall. Continue. I turn her to face me. The white corset lifts her breasts high enough that one firm tug exposes them. I do exactly that. Sloane inhales sharply as I free both breasts. My mouth descends through the lower opening of the mask. I suck one nipple hard. She arches against me.

“Rhys.”

I bite gently. Her hands grip my shoulders.

“You left me an instruction.”

Her breathing turns ragged.

“What did it say?”

“Make me beg.”

I slide two fingers between her thighs. Her body is already slick. I circle her once.Then stop. Sloane’s eyes narrow.

“You had an entire year to learn patience.”

“I had an entire year to learn how much you hate it.”

I press one finger inside her. Her head falls back.

“Ask.”

“Don’t start.”

I add a second finger. She clenches around them.

“Ask.”

“Please.”

“For what?”

“Fuck you.”

“Wrong answer.”

I remove my hand. Sloane catches my wrist.

“Please touch me.”

“Where?”