Page 32 of Marked By the Devil

She clung to me, kissing me back as I fingered her faster. Her grip on my hair loosened as she slid it back, cradling my head as I lowered her to the couch.

I got you, Red.

And you’re not going anywhere.

10

WREN

Viktor covered me on the couch, pushing me into the cushions that I’d been calling my bed.

His mouth stayed pressed to mine, sucking my lips, his tongue swiping alongside mine, his chest heaving against mine with every sink down rubbing against my nipples. They were hard, peaked and so tender that I wished he’d rip my shirt off and pull them between his lips too.

But it was his hand, so big and rough as he kept it between my legs. His finger was soaked from thrusting it into my pussy, driving me insane with this raw need to explode.

Under him like this, I felt trapped in a new version of captivity. One of lust and desire, prompting me to cease thinking at all.

If I could, I would’ve remembered that he was the kind of man I shouldn’t want.

If common sense were still a thing, I would’ve told him to stop.

But all I could do was feel and accept this charged rush to come.

He ripped his mouth from mine, staring at me as he added another finger.

“Oh, fuck.” It slipped out of me as a wretched whisper of surprise. If he could make me feel this full with two fingers, I could only imagine his dick stretching me. “Fuck.” I grabbed his head and pulled him back down for a kiss, needing a hit of his possessive mouth.

Breaking for air, he watched me wince with the need to come. “Go on, Red.” His breath was choppy around the rasp of his words. “Ask me. A kiss for a question.”

If that was true, I’d earned about fifty kisses. But his game was over. I would hate him for it, this damn test of seeing how easily I could surrender to him. I was. I would. Any second now, I would splinter apart from his fingers stroking me and his thumb now rubbing circles around my clit.

“Can you…” I swallowed hard, frowning with the urgency to come. I gave up, humping his hand and letting my legs fall apart wider. “Can you…”

“Fuck.” He kissed me again. “Anything. Anything, Wren. Ask me.”

“My—” I moaned under another frantic kiss. “My shirt. Can you get it off and⁠—”

He lowered his mouth to mine and answered me. I couldn’t even finish the question, but he understood anyway. Gripping the collar of my shirt, he wrenched down and sent the buttons flying. My bra was in the way, but he tugged at it hard, revealing my breasts.

Still fingering me, he didn’t lose his tempo as he dipped his face down. Kissing one then the other, he tormented me more. Licking at my flesh. Sucking to the point of pain on my nipple. Nipping at the lower curve of my breast. Then repeating it all over with my other breast.

“Viktor. Oh, fuck. Viktor. I need to come. I need to… to…”

He tugged on my nipple harder, pulling it into his mouth.

That was all it took. My orgasm crashed into me, smacking me with an exquisite burst of endorphins.

I cried out, shocked by the intensity of how good and bad it was. How hard and sensual he felt.

Licking at me and slowing his fingers back and forth, he let me ride the waves of pleasure until I ceased trembling. Until I started to catch my breath.

But as soon as I felt the shame and horror shrouding me at the fact that I’d let him touch me or kiss me at all, I was jarred out of the drugging, dizzying effects of my orgasm.

He pulled his fingers out and sat up. With his smoldering gaze on me, he licked his fingers clean. Then without a word, he got up and strode to the bathroom, his huge erection tenting his pants.

What the fuck was that?

What happened to not letting my emotions rule me?