Page 51 of Villainous Intent

“And yet,” he whispered, “you’re dripping wet.”

Shame flooded me. “I’m not.”

“Liar.”

He shifted his grip, hooking his finger under the lace of my panties and pulling the fabric aside. He touched me directly, his fingers sliding through my slickness. The sensation was blinding and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning.

“Look at you,” he taunted, his voice rough. “Soaking my hand while you want to claw my eyes out. But this is the truth of it, isn’t it? You don’t want to hit me. You want me to fuck the anger out of you.”

“Stop,” I begged even as I ground against his hand.

“Make me.”

He circled my clit through the slick heat. Once. Twice.

My vision blurred.

“You want it,” he growled. “You want me inside you. Right here. In front of everyone.”

He pressed the tip of his finger against my entrance. He pushed just enough to stretch me. He was going to do it. He was going to finger me right here in the booth where everyone could see.

Panic crawled its way through me. Because I wanted it. I wanted it so much the desire felt like it would strangle me.

“Truce!” The word tore out of me. “Truce, I can’t⁠—“

His hand froze.

The finger at my entrance stopped its invasion and the arm twisting my wrist loosened.

“Breathe,” he commanded.

I inhaled sharply, my heart hammering against my ribs. The arousal was still there, pulsing and demanding, but it was curdling into shame under the weight of what I’d almost let him do.

I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t really his plaything. I was just Annie. And she couldn’t do this.

Cipher withdrew his hand slowly and he released my wrist. I slumped against his chest, trembling.

He brought his hand up to his face and the lips I knew so well curved into a dark, satisfied smile. He extended the finger that had been inside me and it glistened in the dim light. Then he put it in his mouth.

He sucked the slickness from his skin. He took his time, savoring the taste of my arousal like it was a fine wine he’d just uncorked.

“Delicious,” he murmured against his wet finger.

My face burned. The heat radiated from my chest up to my hairline.

“You...” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

He watched me struggle for words and slowly licked his lips, making a show of tasting me again.

“Speechless?” he taunted softly. “That’s a first.”

“I hate you,” I choked out, trying to wipe the memory of his finger from my mind. “You’re just getting off on this. Having me helpless in your lap. Making me beg. It’s a pathetic power trip.”

“A power trip,” he repeated. His voice was devoid of humor.

“Yes,” I snapped. “You need to control every move I make because you can’t handle a woman who doesn’t⁠—“

His hand moved too fast to track. He tangled his fingers in my hair, forcing my head back until my neck was exposed.