Page 28 of The Devil We Crave
“But you are, Yelena,” he murmurs darkly. “Just like when I pinned you to the wall and felt this needy, drippy pussy come all over my fingers. Is that what you want to do again,little prey?” he purrs into my ear as my eyes roll back and my core utterly liquifies. “Comefor me?”
“Get off?—!”
“That’s just what I’m trying to do,” he murmurs, the rough, masculine tone humming through my system, making my breath catch and my thighs quiver. “Get you off. But if you want me to do that, you’d better tell me the truth,” he hisses, rubbing harder. “And you’d better tell me before I change my mind.”
My whole face caves, and my breathing turns ragged as he starts to quickly flick the back of his knife back and forth over my throbbing clit. My panties are fucking soaked as they mold to my pussy and slide wetly under his knife.
A masked stranger was chasing you through the dark with a knife and you let that happen, which would make you…well…deranged.
He’s right.
There’s something very wrong with me.
Because as much as the rational part of me wants to scream, or twist away in horror, or beg him to stop…none of that happens.
Not even close.
All I can focus on is the needy pulse between my legs as this psychopath uses aknifeto turn me into a puddle.
“Not Lochlan!” I blurt, my fingering digging into the rippling iron of his forearm as he rubs the knife back and forth. “It… It wasn’t for Lochlan!”
Achilles’s dark eyes glint like liquid midnight as he leans closer, his forehead touching mine and his gaze slicing into my soul.
“Then WHO.”
“Kyle!”
The name spits like poison from my lips.
“I—I thought Kyle Santoro was staying in that bedroo?—”
The knife goes completely still.
His arm stops moving.
The black liquid of his eyes slowly freezes over. And before I know what’s happening, he’s pulling away.
The knife slips from between my thighs, and my skirt drapes back down to cover my panties.
Cool air dances over my heaving chest as he steps away, taking his heat and his scent with him.
I stare up at his suddenly cold face in utter confusion.
“I—I don’t?—”
Achilles turns away. I swallow, my legs still shaking, my pulse still racing, my core still mortifyingly achy, and my panties still clinging to my wet pussy.
He tucks the knife into the back of his jeans and then reaches out, snatching my necklace from where it’s still hanging from a branch. He turns back to me, grabs my clammy hand, yanks it out, palm up, and drops the necklace into it.
The whole scene goes silent.
“N…now what?” I croak quietly.
“Now, Yelena,” Achilles growls with an edge and lethality in his voice that sends a ripple chasing up my spine. “You scurry back to your little life.”
My brow knits.
“So… Th-that’s it?” I whisper.
