Chapter 33 #3
His jaw set.
Succumb.
She rolled her hips against him, feeling that delicious hardness against her, and her smile stretched wide.
His expression flickered as he leaned his hips away but she had already tasted blood.
She had him now.
She gripped his collar tight and bucked hard, sweeping the crook of his elbow out from under him, toppling him as she wrenched sideways.
His body collided with the wood, reverberating up and down the rows of shelves.
“What’s wrong? You were so brave the other night.” She straddled him, grinding her hips like she had nowhere better to be. She ran an ink-stained finger down his pristine white tunic, marring its perfection.
More.
His gaze cut her, pupils deepening and blowing wider as she gripped that jawline she wanted to break with a sledgehammer, marking her warpath in black before closing around his neck.
Oh. He had that look on his face, like he wanted to impale her on his cock and his blade.
The circle of her hips grew filthy.
This was too much fun.
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you enjoyed my insubordination.” She breathed down the column of his strained neck, his hands traitorously palming her ass.
He dug his fingers in, stilling her hips. “Is this your best work?”
“Best is relative,” she murmured, her mouth at his jaw. “I’m just getting started.”
She threw her head back, long black hair loose and wild over her shoulders, kissing the small of her back.
His eyes were steely but heated as she dragged a hand from her shoulder, between the valley of her breasts, teasing the seam of her pants as he let her grind against his hardness and take her pleasure once more.
Separated by two flimsy bits of fabric.
The leather laces loosened, and her fingers disappeared beneath her waistband.
He should have stopped her.
Yet, he was her captive audience, eyes drinking in every detail of her flushed cheeks, hazy eyes, and those hidden fingers sliding deeper.
She would destroy him from the inside out.
Make him pine for her.
Break the bastard prince’s perfect, straight edges and hack him to pieces the way he had left her in the forest. Bring him down to his own personal hell.
He would know no peace.
She groaned as her fingers slipped inside her slick core, then back out over her sensitive clit.
Her gaze was half-lidded, head tilted as she observed her prey where he was snared between her thighs.
He parted his plush lips, watching her play.
“Is this how you handle insubordination?” Her wicked smile curved against his neck as her hand clawed through his black curls, wrenching his head back till she could hear strands snapping.
“Or is this special treatment just for me?” she growled, nipping the shell of his ear.
He gripped her thighs, breaking vessels, but she took it in stride.
“You’re a pest.” His voice was silk over coals.
He was losing the argument as she took her time, trailing her tongue across his feverish skin, across his collarbone, and over that mangled scar that crevassed his neck.
If she wanted, she could rip out his throat. As if in answer, his pulse quickened beneath her lips.
But she wanted to draw out this torture longer.
“A pest? But you keep me around—why is that?”
She sank her teeth into his defined shoulder, a paltry hiss of pain her reward.
She lifted her glistening fingers between them, her thighs trembling in anticipation as his fingers bruised her ass like a ripened peach as she rubbed her oversensitive clit against his hardness.
She gripped his sharp jaw and chin with ink-stained fingers, forcing him open.
Now, drink your poison.
Her bottom lip caught in her teeth as she dragged her gaze and her slick fingers down the flat of his tongue.
His green eyes flashed—contempt. Then darkened. Like a predator who couldn’t and wouldn’t bite the hand that fed him now.
Not when the poison was this sweet.
He set his teeth against her fingers. A bemused smile quirked her lips, waiting for him to make his choice.
A beat passed.
Another.
He hollowed his cheeks, sucking her fingers clean.
“That’s it…” Her voice was strained.
Good boy.
“Do you want more?” She bit her lip as his tongue twined over her digits in a way that made her think of a better use for his mouth.
She leaned over him till their noses brushed. Her blouse slid off her shoulder, letting Bohdan feel the heat wafting from her bare skin.
“Then beg.”
Frustration snapped through his body, and that cold mask of indifference slammed back down.
She knew she was toeing the line.
“No.” He gripped the back of her head sharply, closing the distance between their mouths, and forced the taste of her back onto her tongue.
His other hand snaked around the small of her back, sinfully melding their bodies.
They bit and tore into each other. He held her past the point they should’ve risen for air, and when he finally broke his hold on her, she came up gasping.
“You’ll do the begging.”
Insufferable bastard.
She pushed hard against his chest and clambered off the table with a withering look. “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”