Fox #2
I should tell her to go back upstairs, remove myself from her crosshairs, but when she wets her lips and eases her legs on either side of my thighs to straddle me, I can’t find the words. Her hands reach up to grip the top of the chair, bringing her face close to mine.
“Fox,” she whispers, and my name on her lips is a new high I didn’t know I could reach. “Would you share me?”
Her ass firmly lowers to my lap and I groan. I want to touch her. Take a firm hold of her waist and focus this new pressure onto my aching cock until she’s soaking the fabric between us. Her head tilts until her lips are featherlight on mine.
“You don’t want that.” The nagging voice of my conscience is screaming to remind her that for all intents and purposes, she hates us and has been sent to destroy us. But I’ve always been a fan of hate fucking, and that fact is overshadowing my good sense.
She smiles against my mouth, and that last thread of restraint I’m clinging to is thinner than the air in this room. “No. I don’t. But I think you do?”
Fuck. This woman really is trying to kill me.
“No.” Neither of us believes what I’m saying. “To share you, we all have to trust each other.”
Her hips grind over me, and it’s both frustrating and a short relief of tension. She drops one of her hands to the top of mine and guides me to the back of her thigh.
“And you can’t trust someone you don’t know.”
The curve of her ass is too much for me to resist, and I slide my hand slowly up her soft, supple glute. A small sigh escapes her when I slip two fingers under the thin elastic at her hip. Following the fabric back down her cheeks, I find her needy and wet for me.
“But you know us.” I tease her entrance but don’t dare to go further. She answers with her eager body. “And you’re going to take what you need, aren’t you, venom?”
She traps my fingers between us, and I dare to slip my arm around her waist and bring her close. Every tentative move I make feels like a threat that she will remember her vendetta.
After dreaming of her last night, I haven’t stopped thinking about what she would feel like in my arms and what it would take to get her here.
I thought about how I would convince her to let down her walls or ease her into comfort.
Those hours were spent in vain because I should have known that the key all along was to allow her to bait me into submission.
Her slick arousal coats my fingers and all of my blood rushes to my groin. She pulses up and down, the small noises she’s making meant only for me. That’s right, venom. Those are my hands that have you riding the edge of ecstasy.
Her eyes don’t leave mine, and for a brief moment, I wonder if she can hear my thoughts because her brow knits and I’m immediately groveling for mental forgiveness.
Begging her subconscious to stay with me just a little longer.
And when her mouth finally presses firmly to mine and her tongue teases behind my teeth, I become an all too willing victim.
I have to keep her here with me as long as I can, fearing the clarity that will undoubtedly come after her orgasm.
“Not yet,” I beg, curling my fingers inside of her, causing her to gasp. “Please, slow down for me.”
My arm around her waist fights for her to slow, but she’s so close.
“No, oh gods, Fox.” Her anticipation of release echoes into my mouth faster as her body tenses in my hold. “I can’t.”
“Come on, venom. A little bit longer.” My voice is rough, thin, and disgustingly desperate. “Please.”
I think I’ve just unearthed something she didn’t know about herself because she pushes her chest into mine, holding me tighter than before.
My cock pulses with every rock of her pelvis, the friction becoming too much to bear.
Suddenly, my only options are to come in my pants or lose myself completely.
If we were still in my dreams, I would lift her onto the desk and fuck her until she’s screaming my name.
But in this reality, it’s critical that I hold my composure.
“I’m— I’m—” Her voice strains to find the declaration.
I tilt my head up to meet her eyes, to watch the dawn of pleasure break over her face.
“Tell me that you hate me, venom.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, the impending orgasm gripping my fingers.
“Fox, I—”
“Tell me that I’m your worst enemy while you ride my hand and make a mess in my lap.” My fingers inch higher inside of her, hitting the spot that pushes her closer to the edge.
“I fucking . . . hate . . . you.” She clutches the hair at the base of my neck, the sting making me hiss.
That admission shouldn’t tickle my spine but nonetheless, my dick jerks in my pants. My muscles loosen and she takes what she needs with a gritted, “I fucking hate you.”
The straining squeeze of her cunt grips my fingers, and as her hips slow to a hard grind, I come. I come in my damn briefs like I’m in high school again. But when the intense sensation slows, something else takes over. A pulling in my gut that feels oddly familiar.
It’s when her muscles start to ease that I realize where I’ve felt this before.
But it can’t be possible. Not unwillingly and certainly not without Thorne, Asher, or Maddox present.
Tiny pinpricks of magic filter through my bones and muscles and well at the barrier of my skin; it welds itself to the woman on top of me.
As soon as the realization comes, the draw is gone like it never happened.
Her body slacks against mine and for one blissful minute, she catches her breath in the comfort of my chest. But as expected, she comes out of the fog and gets to her feet.
After she puts a few steps of space between us, she fixes her shirt.
I take mental inventory and don’t feel any less energy flowing through me.
If anything, it’s more excited than before.
She clears her throat, smoothing down the back of her hair and reaching for the necklace that Thorne took last night.
Her finger rubs over the vacant spot, but it must not bring her the same relief because she quickly adjusts her posture, tucking her hands behind her back.
I wait for her to verbally berate me or call this all a mistake, but she just stares at me.
Our chests rise and fall in tandem like we’ve just run a marathon.
“I’ll bring lunch up to your room in an hour.” It’s the dismissal she wants, and she turns on her heels to scurry out of the study.
I listen for her footsteps overhead before getting up to assess the stain at the crotch of my sweatpants.
Thank every old and new god that Thorne and Maddox aren’t here.