Chapter Fifteen #4
He shifts, his hand sliding down from my throat to splay across my stomach, his palm warm and heavy.
He doesn't move it; he just lets it rest there, as if he’s already claiming the space.
"Just...stretched out and heavy with mine."
I freeze, a sharp intake of breath hitching in my chest.
I try to find my usual cocky armor, but my voice comes out breathy, betrayed by the way my pussy is currently pulsing around his fingers.
"You're fucking insane, Revel."
He doesn't laugh. He doesn't even smirk. He just leans down, pressing his forehead against mine, his breath hot on my lips.
"I am. I'm completely fucked for even thinking about it. The thought of a little version of you...a little brat with your eyes and my temper...it makes me so hard I can barely breathe."
I’m flushed, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
I want to tell him it’s just a fantasy, a game we're playing to spice things up, but the raw hunger in his gaze tells me he’s not playing.
He’s staring at my belly like it’s the only thing in the world that matters.
“Fantasy, Revel,” I whisper, though I’m arching my hips instinctively, the friction of my leather mini skirt against my skin suddenly feeling like too much and not enough all at once. “It’s just a fucking fantasy.”
“Not for me,” he growls.
Whatever playfulness was left in him disappears.
Revel crowds over me, forcing me deeper into the mattress as his gaze drags down my body. My leather skirt is already shoved high on my thighs, bralette barely staying where it belongs, and the way he looks at me makes my pulse kick harder.
His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties.
One hard tug sends them down my legs and across the room.
But he doesn’t reach for his cock.
Instead, his hands slide beneath my thighs and spread me wider, pushing my knees back as his attention drops between them.
I swear I can feel that stare.
“Fuck, Mama.” His voice comes out rough.
He doesn’t rush it.
I’m perched on the edge of the bed when his hand closes around my throat, holding me exactly where he wants me. His other hand comes up between us, two fingers brushing across my bottom lip.
“Open.”
My eyes stay on his as I do.
He watches my mouth close around his fingers, sucking and coating them in a thick layer of saliva. When he finally pulls them free, his gaze follows them down my body.
His hand slips beneath my skirt, taking its time before those wet fingers drag between my legs.
My body betrays me immediately.
A twitch. A shudder.
Revel catches every fucking bit of it.
“Fuck.” His grip firms around my throat as his fingers tease through my wetness again, deliberately drawing out the reaction. “Look at you. So fucking wet for me.”
I bite down on my lip, but another shiver runs through me anyway.
His eyes lift to mine.
There’s something deeply unfair about how fucking pleased he looks when he realizes I’m already falling apart for him.
Then he drives two fingers deep into me without warning.
I gasp, my back arching as he stretches me open, but the hand around my throat keeps me anchored at the edge of the mattress. There’s nothing slow about it now.
He pumps his fingers in and out with a brutal, rhythmic speed, his knuckles rubbing against my clit with every thrust.
Then he adds a third finger, stretching my walls to the limit, the friction creating a wet, slapping sound that echoes through the otherwise quiet room.
“You’re so fucking responsive,” he snarls, his thumb pressing hard into my clit, circling it with a punishing pressure that has me sobbing. “Mm, do you know how much I want to replace these fingers with my cock, baby?”
I can’t even answer.
My entire body is shaking, my internal muscles clamping down around his hand.
Revel watches every fucking second of it.
Then he gives one final, deep shove, his fingers hitting my cervix, before ripping them out with a wet, visceral pop that makes me shiver. He holds my gaze while sucking them clean and I barely have time to register the loss before his hand leaves my throat.
In one fluid, violent motion, he flips me over.
I gasp, the air leaving my lungs as my chest hits the mattress, my ass tilted high in the air, completely exposed and vulnerable.
Before I can even catch my breath, his palm slams against my right cheek with a loud, stinging crack.
"Ah!" I cry out, the shock of the spank sending a jolt of pure electricity straight to my clit, making my walls contract violently.
“You’re mine, Cece,” he snarls, his voice possessive and raw, stripped of all his usual smugness. “Every inch of you.”
“Fuck.” I glance back at him over my shoulder. “Then quit fucking talking about it.”
His eyes darken.
“Careful, Mama.”
“Or what?”
That does it.
His shirt comes off first, dragged over his head and tossed somewhere behind him. My eyes shamelessly follow the movement, taking in tattooed muscle and the hard rise and fall of his chest before his hands drop to his pants.
“Ay, cállate,” I mutter before he can comment on me staring.