Page 117 of Scarlet Wars
A beat of silence. And then, his voice, low and lethal. “Please, Caden, what?”
I almost sobbed, thighs shaking around his hand, pressure building to the point of pain. “Please…let me come.”
His responding groan was feral.
“Fuck, you’re perfect like this,” he rasped. “Shaking for me. Dripping for me. Begging me to ruin you.”
And then he finally plunged two fingers deep inside me.
I cried out, my entire body jolting as the stretch hit. He didn’t give me time to adjust. Didn’t slow down. He curled his fingers just right, dragging them back with devastating control before driving them in again, harder, deeper.
As if he meant to fuck the begging right out of me.
My hands clawed at his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as he thrust into me again and again, the heel of his palm grinding against my clit with every stroke. I was soaked, every wet sound between us filthy and obscene, my walls fluttering around him as he pumped me full of pressure, pleasure, need.
“Feel this?” he growled. “This is what you fucking crave.”
He scissored his fingers inside me, opening me wider, rough and perfect enough to make me cry out again. My thighs tried to close around his hand—too much, too intense—but he pinned me open, held me exactly where he wanted me, helpless under the weight of it.
My head dropped against his chest, forehead slick with sweat, body trembling against the wall as he worked me apart piece by piece.
His other hand slid up my chest, a burning trail, until his fingers wrapped around my throat.
Not squeezing. Only claiming.
My pulse thundered beneath his palm, completely at his mercy.
And fuck, Ilovedit.
Caden’s eyes were molten, drinking in every little reaction, every tremble, every hitched breath, his expression one of pure, unfiltered satisfaction.
Every muscle quivered as pressure coiled low in my stomach, winding tighter and tighter until I thought I’d snap.
His hand gripped my throat even harder, anchoring me in place as his fingers fucked me faster—hidden under the cover of my dress.
“Eyes on me, Emma.”
I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them.
“That’s it,” he whispered, his mouth hot against my skin. “Now give whatIwant, Nightcrawler… Give me what Iearned.”
His fingers plunged deep, curling with merciless precision, and my body reacted before my mind could catch up. My hips bucked helplessly against his hand, chasing the release clawing its way up from the pit of my stomach.
“Caden…” I gasped, trying to bite back the sound rising in my throat.
He groaned, the sound reverberating through his chest into mine, his pace unrelenting. “Come for me, Thompson. Now.”
It was an order. A command.
And my body obeyed.
I shattered with a sob against his chest, clenching tight around him, and he didn’t stop. He kept going, fingers thrusting deep and slow, drawing out every wave, milking my orgasm until I was sobbing against him, wrung out and boneless in his arms.
“Fuck yes,” he groaned. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”
He held me through it, his hand still moving, dragging every tremor from my body until there was nothing left but breath and heat.
Only when the shaking finally faded, only when my head lolled against his shoulder, my body utterly spent, did he exhale a shuddering breath, his own restraint hanging by a thread.
