Page 50 of Fatal Fantasy

“Cheers to this new chapter,” Carter says, a devilish smirk painted across her face, and we all clink our cups together, toasting to what feels like the start of something truly beautiful.

Carter chugs her vodka in one gulp, slamming her cup into my chest in a complete deja vu of the night we met, and rather than checking in with Tyson, I snatch the bottle of vodka and refill my girl’s drink.

Since the moment that red solo cup touched my body, she was fucking mine, and as long as I live, I’ll never forget that moment our eyes locked, so when my girl asks for something she gets it.

“Will both of you drink with me? I just … want to feel normal, only for a few minutes,” Carter pleads, her eyes shifting between the two of us, and I’m instantly trapped under her spell, hoping Ty can let loose, for at least one minute.

“Cheers, baby girl,” he smiles, clinking his cup against hers, and we finish our drinks in one gulp, but the tension is thick in the air, like something is hanging between the two of them.

One look at Carter tells me all I need to know, her flushed cheeks and sultry eyes a dead giveaway to the fact that she’s riled up, but there’s a piece missing, a big red flag that I’m attempting to decipher.

Usually, when Carter is satisfied, she’s over-tired, but giddy, a meaningful yet lazy smile painted on her face that’s almost impossible to remove, but tonight, it’s nowhere in sight.

Not only that, but if she’d had an orgasm, a certain glow would be radiating off her face, blinding anyone in her orbit, but right now, she looks perfectly content.

Rather than question it, wonder what philanthropic shit Tyson put in her head, or make her feel any less beautiful than she is at this exact moment, I take matters into my own hands.

Trailing my hand along her thigh, I dig my nails into the fabric, listening as a soft moan leaves her chest, the kind that proves my theories correct, and ignites a fire from my head to my toes.

If Tyson wants to spend two hours leaving her unsatisfied, that’s his problem, because when my woman is this worked up, there’s no way I won’t do everything in my power to drag her into the depths of euphoria.

“What happened, Principessina?” I press my lips to her neck, whispering just under her ear while she squirms around my hand, clenching her thighs just enough while a soft groan escapes her chest.

“He kissed me,” she whispers, her nails digging into my arm while I spread her legs apart, trailing my fingers toward her center at a slow, torturous pace.

“That’s it?” My eyes shift to Tyson’s, a blank stare painted across his face, but he stays put on the other side of the table, not speaking a word.

“He doesn’t want to hurt me,” she groans as I tease one finger along the hem of her leggings, putting light pressure against her clit while snaking my free hand around her throat.

“Am I hurting you, Carter?” I ask, feeling her swallow around my palm, cutting off her air supply while she struggles to speak around my grasp.

“No. More,” she chokes out, and I don’t dare deny a request like that, breaching the fabric between us, making quick work of sliding her panties to the side.

The second my fingers brush against her clit, she spasms against the chair, my body levitating to new heights as a stark reminder of her sensitivity – and the sheer power this woman holds over me – comes crashing down all at once.

“Massi!” Tyson barks, my focus solely on Carter as I hum in response, ready to lock him in a closet if he even tries to stop the beautiful mess I’m about to make of our girl.

“Tyson, tell us what to do. Please?” Carter pleads, luring him into our delicious web of pleasure, even as my grip on her throat hasn’t lessened in the slightest.

“That’s my little ice princess,” I praise, dropping out of my chair and onto my knees, staring up at her with a fierce hunger in my eyes, one that is speaking directly into her soul without using words.

Our connection was severed and sliced at the stem, but if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s how resilient Carter and I are.

Our bond is slowly regaining its strength, and a split second is all it takes for me to read her mind, her lust-filled irises meeting mine, paired with a lethal smirk that snatches the breath straight from my lungs.

“Take it all off,” Tyson instructs, and Carter immediately nods, both of us smiling as I reach for her waist, tearing the leggings off her body.

Now that we’ve got the beast exactly where we want him, there’s no telling how sinister this game is going to get, but I’m kneeling at the altar, finally returning to my only place of worship.

TWENTY-FOUR

CARTER

If Tyson can read my thoughts, Jasper is the expert at knowing my body.

One look was all he needed to know how worked up I was, but even with Tyson’s warnings, I’m playing with fire, desperate for the madness we create together.

At first, I was terrified that intimacy would be the last thing I’d ever feel comfortable with, but as Jasper stares at me from his knees, and Tyson’s dark eyes burn me with intensity, my body is more alive than it’s been in ages.