Page 49 of The Villain We Tempt

Then I start to crawl, feeling the old hardwood under my knees and palms as I advance to him. My pulse beats quicker and heavier the closer I get.

It’s his scent I get first—woodsy with hints of bergamot and spice. The intoxicatingly masculine smell invades my nostrils just before I see his boots. I tremble as I come to a stop in front of him, still on my hands and knees.

Shaking.

Scared.

And yet morbidly excited.

Eager.

“Sit up on your knees.”

The rasp of the modulated voice gives his commands a sinister edge.

And fuck me, Ieat it up.

My breathing is ragged as I rise up and sit back on my heels. I tremble when his big hand cups my jaw, and I bite my lip as he lifts my gaze to his—looming over me, looking down into my very soul through the blank eyeholes of his mask.

He lets go of my chin.

His hands move to his belt.

Holy fuck.

A scared, uncertain, weak part of me wants to run.

To lurch to my feet, shove him away, and bolt out the door before sprinting as fast as I can to safety.

To my friends.

To the authorities.

To myfathers.

But that part is in the minority.

The silent, nervously excited majority keeps me right where I am: on my knees, heart thudding, skin rippling, nipples tightening.

Pussy throbbing.

He undoes his belt. Then he pops the button of his black jeans. He slowly tugs the zipper down, the metallic bump-bump sound as it ticks past each tooth making my pulse skitter and jump.

Heat spreads between my tightly clenched thighs as he slides his thumbs into the elastic of his black boxers and starts to peel them and his pants down over his grooved hips.

I see abs. A dark line of neatly trimmed hair leading lower.

And then…

What the actual fuck.

It’s just the base. But holyshit.

It’s as thick as my wrist.

Veined. Swollen. Throbbing.

My jaw drops as he slowly slides his boxers lower, exposing inch after thick, pulsing inch of his cock.