Page 144 of Twisting Beauty

Heat followed immediately, sharp and unwelcome.

He felt it. Of course he did. His gaze dropped to where my legs had tensed, and a muscle in his jaw moved.

In the space of a blink, his knife was out, the steel flashing at the edge of my vision.

“What did I tell you about lying to me?”

My body went rigid.

His blade. His game. The way he had taught me, when he caught me in Alistair’s bedroom, exactly what a lie would cost me.

A dark thrill rushed through me, soaking my underwear with warmth and need.

“Lorc,” I breathed.

He slid the blade against the silk at my hip, slicing my panties, first one side, then the other, before tucking his knife away.

He collected the material in between my thighs, brushing my pussy with his fingers, and dragged it free, slow enough that I felt every sliding inch of the movement.

He didn’t break my gaze as he held the panties to his nose, inhaling with a groan, then slid the ruined damp fabric into the inside breast pocket of his jacket.

My stomach flipped.

He slid his hand back up my skirt, fingers finding my slick clit.

I bit back a moan and squeezed my legs shut around his hand.

“Lorc, not here.” My voice came out low and tight as I tried to push his wrist away.

He caught my wrists in his other hand, gathering them easily, and restrained them against my own thigh.

He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “You do not get to deny me. Open.”

I let out a whimper.

He pinned me with a warning look that one way or another, with or without my help, my thighs were opening for him.

Fuck him. I let my thighs fall apart, even as my jaw tightened as my whole traitorous body heated with need.

A ragged gasp tore from me as he thrust two fingers inside me, no preamble, just an aching fullness that made my thighs tremble.

He began to fuck me with his fingers, pinning me down with my wrists on my thigh as if he was punishing me. Like he was angry at me. Like he was trying to mark me. Or to obliterate another man from my mind.

In the mirror, the driver’s eyes flicked up and met mine.

Shit. If he saw. If he told. Alistair would know. Everything would collapse.

Lorcan glanced to the driver before returning to me.

I thought he’d stop.

Instead, he added a third finger, my pussy clenching around the stretch.

Bastard.

I forced my face still and stared straight ahead at the back of the driver’s headrest. I couldn’t make a sound. I couldn’t let the driver hear. I couldn’t let any of this be seen.

He thrust harder, the steady rhythm becoming urgent, demanding.