Page 83 of Villainous Intent

His hands took my face as he crushed his mouth to mine in a deep kiss that tasted like bourbon. He yanked my naked body flush against him, eliminating the sliver of space between us.

When he groaned, I opened my eyes and gasped into his mouth. Everywhere my bare skin pressed into his—my breasts flattening against his chest, my stomach flush with his abdomen—the tattoos flared. Brilliant silver light bled from the ink, illuminating the dark space between us.

“Fuck,” he cursed against my lips. “Fucking hell, Annie. You are going to be the death of me.”

He reached down and gripped the backs of my thighs, hoisting me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to his shoulders as he dropped us down onto the mattress.

Cipher’s eyes looked wild as he locked his hands onto my hips and drove his cock into me.

I screamed and he swallowed the sound, his tongue tangling with mine as he invaded me. The hollow starvation inside my body burned away as he filled me. I arched my back, desperate to take more of him.

He pulled back and rolled his hips forward. In that one thrust, I knew I had never been with a man who actually knew how to fuck. The partners I’d had just pumped in and out, chasing their own release. Cipher angled his hips and ground against every single hypersensitive spot inside me.

He broke the kiss and licked the frantic pulse at my throat before nipping hard.

“Look at how perfectly you take my cock,” he growled, as he rolled his hips again, burying himself. “So fucking tight and soaking wet.”

As he dragged his hips back for another thrust, I was snapped back to reality. There was no latex. No barrier. Just his bare skin sliding directly against me.

“Wait,” I gasped, my hands flying to his hips, trying to stop him. “Cipher, stop.”

He froze, his jaw locked tight. “What?”

“You’re not wearing a condom. I’m not on birth control.”

Instead of pulling out, he rolled his hips again, harder.

“I’m not stopping,” he growled. “Every Super is mandated to take a contraceptive shot and we can’t contract or transmit disease. I’m not wearing a fucking barrier with you. I’m going to fuck you bare, and I’m going to pump every drop of my come straight into your pretty little cunt. Then you’re going to beg for more.”

The throb between my legs deepened. I bucked up into him, trying to take his cock deeper.

“Look at you,” he mocked. He thrust his hips in a shallow, agonizingly slow grind. “So fucking desperate to take my bare cock like a good little whore.”

The word ‘good’ scraped against me. I had choked on that expectation for years and all it had done was leave me hollow. I was sick of being the good girl everyone expected me to be.

I surged upward and clamped my jaws down hard on the tattoo over his collarbone, biting straight into the ink.

A curse ripped from his throat and his entire body shuddered. The light beneath my mouth pulsed brightly.

He pulled back and grabbed my thighs, hauling my legs high over his shoulders, and drove into me. He fucked me hard, every thrust dragging a moan from me.

I was hovering right on the precipice. The climax clawed at me, demanding release. Then, he pulled out.

“No!” I cried out. I’d forgotten that this was a punishment. His cock had made me forget just about everything else in the world that wasn’t him. “Please. Keep fucking me. Let me come.”

He hovered over me, his chest heaving. “Are you that desperate to come on my cock, Annie?”

“Yes!” I felt tears sliding down the sides of my face into my hair and part of me was embarrassed to be crying in front of him, but the rest of me didn’t care. I needed to come. “Please—fuck, please let me come.”

I pressed my mouth to the ink on his chest. I licked the sweat from his skin, nipping at the lines. “Please,” I whispered against him, my tongue tracing the silver light. “Please.”

He hissed and shoved me backward, ripping his chest away from my lips.

“You think you can play games, Bishop? You think you can use your pretty mouth against me so that I forget myself?”

I shrieked as he hauled me off the mattress. He carried me across the bedroom and shoved me against the wall of windows along one side of the room.

“Put your hands flat on the glass,” he ordered.