Page 7 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 3

Her brows lift and she licks her lips, eyeing the thing as I chomp another mouthful. “You’ve already taken two bites of it. It’s damn near half gone already!”

“Told you, I’m hungry. So spread your legs and get to it.”

Her neck bobs with a swallow and her frown deepens.

“Play with your tits, too.” The idea is dumb as shit. I already know what the sight of her touching herself is going to do to me, but I love the torture. Mine. Hers. I’m going to take my sweet ass time eating, and no doubt, by the time I’m done, I’ll be ready to climb onto the table and devour her, too.

“I can’t do that. Not in front of you.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I’ve never been able to bring myself to climax for a man.”

“I’m not asking you to do it for me, Dylan.”

She stares back at me, as if wary for a moment. “What is this, my punishment?”

“No. It’s mine. For agreeing to this shit in the first place. Now, do as I said before you piss me off.” I slide my tongue across my lips, eyes locked on her fingers that haven’t yet moved, and shoot a quick upward glance, a warning.

“Or what?” The defiant lift of her chin along with the challenge in her voice casts a ripple down my spine.

All I have to do is cock a brow for her to clear her throat and shift against the table, all edgy and nervous.

Smart. She knows damn well what I’m capable of by now.

Her fingers half-heartedly move slowly across her seam, up and down, before circling her small nub. “Okay. You want to know what was going through my mind?”

“Yeah.” I bite down into the burger with an urge to rip it, like a lion tearing off a piece of a hunted gazelle.

She tips her head back, and when she pushes two fingers up inside of her, I gulp the food lodged in my throat. “You. You were going through my mind, Rip.” A whimper interrupts her as she draws her fingers back and the glisten of her skin tells me she’s so wet, it hurts to look at her.

Fucking hell.

“I fantasized about you tying me to that cross.” Slow, lazy pumps, in and out, keep my eyes rapt, my ears hanging on her every word.

The burger stops midway to my mouth, while I watch her hips circle, taunting me.

“Slicing away my clothes with your blade.” Her fingers are pumping faster now, one hand at her pussy, the other toying at her nipple, and I exhale a forced breath through my nose. “You glide the blade gently across my throat, reminding me who I belong to.”

I ball my hands into tight fists. My control is slipping as she continues to dip into dangerous waters.

In and out, she gets herself off to the visual, and when she slips her fingers up the seam, her soaking wet skin shoots a zap of ecstasy straight to my dick, prompting me to grab myself under the table.

“I’m so wet for you, Ripley. Only you. I want you.” Her legs are trembling and she hoists herself up onto one elbow. She’s good. Real fucking good, because for a split second, I almost believe that shit.

“I’m warning you. You better come by the time I’ve finished this goddamn burger.”

Defeat washes over her and she shakes her head. “Fuck you.”

I don’t know what it is about this girl. The fact that she isn’t afraid of me or that she loves testing my patience, but either way, she’s got me so fucking hard right now. I like the way my blood goes hot around her, and she stirs some primitive desire in my head to chase after.

Agony slithers across her face in the tight pinch of her brows while her muscles quake in desperation.

It’s clear her psyche is all cross-wired, and I had a feeling she wouldn’t come this way.

She has a trigger word—all the butterflies do. One word that would have her come on command, like Pavlovian conditioning. One word that would give her release and ease the pain. One word she’s been disciplined to both hate and love at the same time. And yet, she wouldn’t know what it was if I asked her. Only her handler, the man who trained her, knows what it is.

Her broken pieces are hidden behind a fragile mask of normalcy that could crack at any moment, as I found with the bleach.