Page 69 of Devil’s Reign
I drag my mouth to her jaw, her ear, her throat, biting down just enough to hear her sharp intake of breath, to feel her body press closer. Then she tilts her head and whispers again, “Take me to your room, Vanya.”
My gut clenches hard. Christ. Who the fuck is this temptress?
For a split second, my brain clears enough to recognize she’s up to something and trying to distract me. I can feel it in my bones. But then her hand slides between us, grabs my cock through the towel, and squeezes, and the thought burns to ash. I growl, scooping her up against my chest like the treasured possession she is, and stride out of the office without a backward glance.
My men snap their heads up as we pass through the suite, but I level one look at them, and they clear the room so fast I barely hear them go. She doesn’t notice. She’s brushing her lips along my jaw like she’s measuring exactly how much damage she can do before we get to my room. By the time I reach the door, my cock is in genuine pain. I shoulder it open and shut it behind us, twisting the lock—I want no interruptions.
Still holding her close, I let her body slide down mine—slowly, on purpose, every inch of her dragging against me, my cock tracing a hard, aching line along her stomach until she’s on her feet. Her breath catches, her lashes fluttering, and I watch her chest rise and fall quickly, every tiny reaction feeding the hunger ripping through me.
She steps back, her eyes locked on mine. Then, in one rough pull, she yanks her dress over her head and drops it to the floor.
My lungs seize.
She’s bare in front of me, her nipples tight, her thighs pressed close together, and a glint in her eyes like she knows exactly what kind of torture she’s putting me through. I want her to feel the same torture, so I drop my towel.
She inhales sharply, a little vulnerable light entering her eyes, but she blinks, and it's gone. Then she closes the distance between us and runs her palm up my chest. The touch burns straight through me, every stroke of her hand branding my skin.
I grab her wrists, my voice rough as I tell her, “You’re playing with fire, myshka.”
“Maybe I want to get burned.” Her smile is taunting. She has no idea how much she affects me, but that wicked look suggests she enjoys getting a rise out of me.
It makes something snap inside me. I sweep her up in my arms and crush her against me, her breasts flattened to my chest, her nipples rubbing as I move.
Her pussy is already wet, and my belly clenches as the slippery proof of her desire smears across my skin. The friction almost undoes me.
Every step makes my cock harder, and I clamp my jaw so tight my teeth hurt. I carry her into my walk-in closet, heading straight for the tall mirror before setting her down. She barely has time to steady herself before I’m spinning her to face it.
Her hands twitch like she wants to cover herself, but I drag her back against my chest, my cock pressed thick and insistent against her ass, my palm sliding over her shivering stomach.
“Watch,” I growl into her ear. “Watch yourself while I touch you.”
Her lashes flutter again, her lips parting, and the sharp, helpless inhale she takes is like gasoline poured straight into my blood. I spread her legs with my knee, move my hand down, and slide my fingers through her folds.
She’s drenched, slick and hot, and the feel of her nearly buckles my knees.
“Fuck,” I grit out under my breath as I push one finger inside her.
She’s so tight. Her cunt clamps down on me instantly, her body clenching like it doesn’t want to let me go. She moans, breathy and desperate, her head falling back against my shoulder.
“Eyes forward,” I snap, fisting her hair and yanking her chin towards the mirror.
She obeys, her eyes meeting mine through the glass, wide and glazed with need. Her lips part on another shaky moan as I sink a second finger into her, stretching her, working her deeper. Her pussy grips me like a vice, pulling my fingers in tighter every time I thrust. The wet, squelchy sounds coming from her cunt as I fuck her make my cock jerk against her ass, and my eyes squeeze shut for a moment as the room seems to tilt around us.
I open my eyes again, needing to see how her body reacts to my touch. I twist my fingers inside her, and a long drawn-out moan spills out—my name breaking through it like a prayer. Her hips start to move, rocking down against my hand, chasing the pressure, chasing me. In the mirror, her face is flushed, her mouth open, lashes falling and rising as she fights to keep her eyes on mine.
“Keep looking,” I growl, twisting my fingers again and dragging them hard against the spot I know will make her jolt.
Her knees buckle, but I catch her against my chest, holding her tight even as my cock throbs against her back, precum leaking and smearing her skin.
She whimpers and tries to shut her eyes, but I tug her hair harder until she gasps. “Don’t you fucking close them.”
They snap back open, locking on mine again. Her whole body is shaking now, her chest heaving with every breath, nipples standing stiff and proud in the air. Unable to resist, I release her hair and slide that hand down to cup one breast.
I pinch and roll her nipple between my fingers, twisting it hard enough to make her cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, the sound tears down my spine and pools at the base of my cock, making it pulse, the organ aching, leaking more against her back. I work my fingers faster, pumping into her, curling them deep until her wetness gushes down my wrist.
The mirror fogs faintly with her ragged breaths, and her moans climb higher, turning to near screams as I push her closer and closer to the edge.
She moans my name again, broken and raw, her voice a desperate plea. She’s close. Really close. Her cunt is clenching and unclenching around my fingers, her thighs shaking, her back arching against my chest. I bite down on the side of her throat, teeth pressing into her skin hard enough to mark her, and at the same moment I twist her nipple and curl my fingers one final time, scraping against that bundle of nerves that's her g-spot.
