Chapter 33 #2
My only reply was a whimper as he ground his hips against mine once more, setting a delicious pace.
With a push of my opposite leg, I flipped our positions so that I was seated astride him, gazing down into his eyes.
They were not the warm amber they had been last night, but rather a dangerous, blazing obsidian.
“Fuck,” he swore as I ground down onto his pelvis. “Stop that.”
Heady with a sudden rush of power, I smirked down at him. “What, this?” I asked innocently, rolling my hips again.
He hissed again. “Fuck, if you don’t stop that—”
“You’ll what?” I challenged. “Punish me?”
He groaned weakly.
Feeling emboldened, I dragged my hand over the hard length of him through his jeans, making his breath quicken.
“Gods—You really are the cruelest woman I’ve ever met.”
I laughed, leaning down to kiss him and sliding my tongue against his as I repeated the movement.
“Fuck, Arden, that’s—” A guttural groan emitted from low in his chest. “Cruel,” he murmured against my lips.
I grinned in triumph, surprising him by wrapping a hand tightly around his throat. “I warned you not to underestimate me.” I was no sheep. If anything, I was a snake, ready to strike at the first opportunity.
“Farrow—” he began, but I cut him off.
“You wouldn’t let me touch you last night,” I reminded him. “It’s my turn.”
Casimir’s entire body tensed, but his eyes were dark and his expression ravenous as he gazed up at me.
I wasn’t even touching him properly, and already he was losing control.
I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his face; it was mesmerizing to watch him unravel.
Feeling more powerful than I had in months, I—at last—unbuckled his belt and made room to slip my hand beneath the waistband of his underwear.
He swore as I ran my fingers over him, feeling his impressive length for the first time.
A groan slipped past his lips as I laved my tongue over his throat, making him shudder.
His breath was coming faster now, his eyes fluttering closed.
Heat seeped from every pore of his perfect body into mine, the scent of him filling me, making me dizzy.
I stroked him harder, faster, relishing in the velvet feel of his skin, nipping at his ear with my teeth.
His fingers gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, but I hardly noticed, I was so enraptured by the way my touch affected him.
His cock pulsed beneath my fingers and I swallowed his groan as he came undone.
I withdrew my hand, my palm slick with his seed. He shucked off his shirt and handed it to me so I could clean myself.
I was surprised by my own boldness, at the pleasure I’d wrung from him, and yet I was not embarrassed as I drew back to survey his expression. He gazed up at me, his own chest still rising and falling rapidly, a lovely pink tinge spattered across his cheekbones.
He sat up with my legs still caged around him, crushing his lips against mine, running his hands over my thighs.
By now, I suspected he was aware of my arousal, slick through the thin layer of fabric between us.
Watching him come undone had been no less than earth-shattering, and my body had taken note.
He pulled back long enough to meet my gaze, his eyes sharp and alight with some strong emotion. I shuddered against his knuckles as they trailed the length of my spine.
I couldn’t think of anything to say, other than, “Am I still the cruelest woman you’ve ever met?”
In lieu of answering, he let out a laugh that rumbled against the hollow of my throat. “There are so many places I want to put that traitorous mouth of yours,” he murmured against my neck. “But unfortunately for you, it’s my turn.”
Before I could register his words, he flipped us over, and I yelped in surprise as my back collided with the couch. The look in his eyes was positively predatory as he leaned over me.
“Tell me,” he murmured as he parted my lips with his thumb, “do you despise me still?”
“Yes,” I breathed, but the word held no vitriol.
He laughed softly, his breath ghosting across my face. “Keep telling me lies, Farrow.” He smirked as if he knew they tasted bitter. “We can pretend a little longer, if you like.”
And without waiting for my reply, he surged forward to slant his lips over mine, tracing the seam of my bottom lip with his tongue.
His fingers tangled in my damp hair as his lips explored my throat and collarbones, but he made no move to touch me anywhere else.
This was torture. Dimly, I wondered if this wasn’t all part of his master plan to distract me until I forgot about the ritual entirely.
If so, he had a higher chance of succeeding than I cared to admit.
His hands left my hair to explore the curves of my hips and thighs, sliding beneath my waist to squeeze my backside.
I arched against him, silently begging for more.
Please, touch me.
When I couldn’t stand another moment of his torture, I spoke the phrase aloud, and at last, he relented, dipping his fingers beneath my waistband and sliding them against the bundle of nerves at my center, teasing me with a touch that was far too light for my liking.
“Bastard,” I muttered, and his low laugh rumbled through me.
He pulled back long enough to watch my expression as he slipped one, and then two fingers into my heated core. My face betrayed every emotion as his palm ground against my clit, his fingers curling against my inner walls. I panted against his lips as I rode his hand, barreling closer to the edge.
He swore as I moaned shamelessly, his eyes raking over me before darting back to my face to watch me unravel for him. “That’s it, Farrow,” he breathed.
I cried his name as I tipped over the edge, my entire body trembling and my cunt clenching around his fingers. He watched with pupils blown wide as I shuddered through the aftershocks, my hands gripping his shoulders to anchor myself through the waves of pleasure.
“Casimir,” I breathed, and he surged up to crush his lips to mine.
As I came down from my climax, I blinked through a foggy haze.
Indeed, Casimir’s plan for distracting me was much more effective than I gave him credit for.
I’d let him bring me to climax, not once, but twice in the last twelve hours.
There was no point in denying that we’d crossed a line from whence we could not return.
In the back of my mind, I knew there would be consequences—but right now, I didn’t want to examine the ramifications of what we’d just done.
Was it so bad, really, to want to bask in the afterglow just a little while longer?
I watched in silent astonishment as he withdrew his fingers from my cunt and slid them between his lips, tasting me on his tongue, his dark eyes still locked onto mine. The gesture had me molten with desire again, and I dragged his face back to mine so that I could kiss him again.