Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
At exactly nine o’clock the following morning, Rowan strode into the camera room.
She followed her normal routine of relieving the guard on duty and checking through the cameras to ensure they were all functional.
Then, she promptly turned off the camera for Delilah’s room and left.
The guard rotation for Delilah changed on Wednesday and Saturday and today there would be borrowed officers from the police department.
They didn’t know the schedule.
She didn’t even acknowledge them as she opened the slot on the door and ordered Delilah to put her hands on the wall.
“You’re early,” Delilah noted with a smug tone as soon as the door shut and they were alone. She tossed Rowan a knowing look over her shoulder.
“Shut up,” Rowan snarled, not wasting another second as she closed the distance between them and pushed Delilah up against the wall, relishing the breathy gasp that escaped her.
“How long have you been wanting to do that?” Delilah teased.
Just a taste. Rowan ignored the taunting and shoved her hand down Delilah’s pants, huffing a laugh when she felt the damp spot on her underwear.
“How long have you been ready for me?” she growled, pressing into the thin fabric and soaking it even more.
Delilah’s gasp turned into a quiet moan and she pushed back, her firm ass settling right against Rowan’s crotch, separated only by their damned clothing.
Heat swirled between them as Delilah spread her legs further, opening herself for Rowan’s touch.
Rowan withdrew only long enough to shove Delilah’s underwear aside and sink her fingers in.
“Fuck,” Rowan hissed, unable to hold back, drawing her fingers back out and sliding them up to circle Delilah’s clit.
Her voice was thick with desire and her body was alight with awareness, fire licking through her ribs and settling between her legs.
Delilah wasn’t nearly as wet as she’d been when Rowan dug out the knife, but she would be.
Rowan swiped over her clit, hitting it hard and fast, just like Delilah had shown her on the camera—it was a silent admission, an acknowledgement of what had been lingering between them. But this time, Rowan was in charge. And she was going to leave Delilah begging for more.
She teased the edge of Delilah’s desire, slowing down as soon as she felt Delilah clenching around her fingers, her body tensing and craving release that Rowan wouldn’t give her.
She wanted to hear that snide, smug, mocking voice demanding that Rowan go harder, faster.
Rowan wanted to let go, to fuck Delilah the way she wanted, the way they both wanted—two or three fingers deep with her palm grinding against Delilah’s core until her mocking voice switched to desperate pleas.
But that wouldn’t be today. Not yet. She rested her head on Delilah’s shoulder, one hand lazily playing with Delilah’s clit while her other came up to pin Delilah’s hand against the wall.
Delilah bucked impatiently, her breathy moans muffled.
Rowan knew she was biting her lips, understanding that they needed to be quiet if this would continue.
Too damn easily Rowan gave in. She sunk two fingers back inside, pressing as deep as they’d go and curling in until Delilah’s needy whimper broke through.
Her reward. Her damnation. She repeated the action until the sound was reproduced.
Until Delilah couldn’t help herself but demand more, her voice commanding despite the breathiness of it.
“Harder.”
It was an order that Rowan wouldn’t refuse.
She slid out then slammed back in, her wrist tweaked with pain at the angle, but she couldn’t stop.
Over and over Rowan pulled out before pushing back in, curling her fingers, pressing her palm harder and harder against Delilah with each movement. She was losing herself to the desire.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Rowan would drown in Delilah before she was done. She needed to feel her, to drink in her moans and share her pleasure.
“Turn around,” she ordered, keeping herself inside but otherwise releasing the hold on Delilah’s hand. She grabbed Delilah’s hip, trying to turn her. She kissed Delilah’s neck, her fingers tightening against Delilah’s hip, tugging her. But Delilah refused to move.
Instead, Delilah’s perfect fingers grabbed Rowan’s hand, removing her grip from Delilah’s hip and dragging her hand up, under the loose scrub top that Rowan was dying to rip off. A silent demand that Rowan, again, was helpless to refuse.
She clawed Delilah’s stomach with blunt nails before pushing up her bra and pinching her nipples.
It was such a high being able to touch Delilah like this, her breasts spilling out of Rowan’s hand, her arousal drenching Rowan’s palm as she kept curling and fucking Delilah hard.
She bit Delilah’s shoulders, thrusting in and whimpering with her own need as Delilah tightened around her.
Delilah’s moans grew louder, her body clenching and—just a taste.
Rowan’s jumbled thoughts snapped back through the haze. Her plan. Her need for Delilah to be dependent on her, to be addicted to her. Rowan was so turned on that it took everything in her to pull back. Edging Delilah had been the plan, not her own damn sanity.
“Rowan,” Delilah growled, her tone threatening as she, too, realized what Rowan was doing—already withdrawing her wandering hands, slipping out of Delilah’s bra and underwear.
“Delilah,” Rowan replied, her voice coming out like a whine—undignified and desperate. The name a plea instead of a threat to match Delilah’s.
Delilah turned quickly. She grabbed Rowan’s wrist, an evil glint in her eyes as she brought soaking wet fingers up to her lips.
Rowan had no delusions—as Delilah’s wicked tongue swirled around her fingers—that anything other than torturous punishment awaited her.
Unfortunately, that only turned her on more.
They were so close, Rowan’s eyes locked on her fingers as they disappeared into Delilah’s full, pale lips. She was so enraptured. It wasn’t hard to imagine that delicious tongue moving lower down her body. Delilah’s hand slowly traced the path that Rowan wanted her mouth to take.
Without warning, a jolting current of pain ran down her thigh. Her lust-fogged brain didn’t comprehend what happened until her muscles had locked up and she’d fallen to her knees, face buried in Delilah’s crotch and the hand that wasn’t held captive clutched at Delilah’s thigh for support.
Seconds later, the pulsing in her sore body slowly became more bearable.
Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth in an effort not to scream, and she finally gained enough control to look up.
Delilah still held Rowan’s wrist in one hand, smirking down at Rowan as she gasped for breath.
Delilah had Rowan’s stun gun held lazily in her other hand.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been tased, and given the sheer excitement in Delilah’s eyes, she knew it wouldn’t be the last.
Heat mingled with burning pain and—somehow—flooded her veins with arousal at the sight.
“I told you,” Delilah whispered dangerously, “that I’d want you on your knees.”