Page 54 of Ricochet

Flipping on the shower, I decided to keep the lights off, as she had, and I stepped inside the steam-filled stall.

Water pounded in angry vibrations along my spine. One touch, and everything suddenly felt different, more sensitive. I hated what she was doing to me, the bittersweet torture of driving me mad with lust, all while I knew I shouldn’t want Aubree Culling that way.

My enemy’s wife. The one woman in the world I should’ve avoided like a sane man running from delirium.

Touching her skin. Kissing her. Wet hair. Tight ass. Perfect tits. I was unraveling, coming undone.

It’d become a battle between my mind and my dick.

One taste, one touch, one fuck, my dick proclaimed.

Keep to the plan. Revenge. No distractions. The same words Alec would say to me. Except, Alec wasn’t around and he couldn’t be reached. Which meant I’d been left to my own devices.

I rested my forehead against the tiles and rammed my skull against the unyielding wall, taking in the jagged jolts of pain racing through my bones. Tightly wound knots of confusion tugged inside my head, all of them tied to Aubree. Without the makeup. Without the fancy dresses and jewelry. The Aubree in my mind had been stripped down to her most basic self, making her more exquisite than ever.

Steam filled my lungs, the heat of the water leaving a thin layer of sweat on my face, and I pressed my forehead harder against the cool tiles and took a firm grip of my stiff dick. Long, torturous pulls coincided with the visual in my head—of Aubree, bound and blindfolded to my bed. I let the scenario play out as I pumped in and out of my slick palm.

She wears my shirt that bunches up to her waist, as she writhes in a slow struggle. Her hips circle against the bed in a languid tempo, taunting me, testing my restraint, and have my muscles tensing with visuals of slamming into her.

“Please.” Her plea carries an air of desperation. “I want to.”

To be set free? Fucked? I’ve no idea what she’s begging me for.

“Nick, please.” Her moans become more intense, and her breasts jut forward, nipples peaking through the thin white cotton as she arches off the bed. “Help me.”

From the footboard, I stare down at her as she struggles—for freedom, or from need, I can’t decide, but both are rousing dangerous thoughts.

Her knees come together, and her ass grinds into the mattress. Soft moans escalate to mewling, and her head rolls impatiently against the pillow, her fingers pumping within the confines of her binds, as if she’s frantic to get herself off but can’t.

“Please!” The harsh bellow bounces off the wall, finally snapping that fine thread of control to which I’ve been clinging.

I climb onto the bed and pry her knees apart, and she thrusts her hips upward, offering her pussy to me like a feast. Gripping her ass, I dip my head between her thighs and drag my tongue along her glistening seam, smiling when she cries out.

“Please, Nick. Fuck me. Make me come. I’m in pain.”

Rising to my knees, I position myself at her entrance and slide inside her. She lowers herself to the bed and releases a pained sigh that is both relief and agony. I know this because I feel it, too, as I rock in and out of her tight pussy with the realization that I don’t want the torment to end. I want to stay inside of her, with her warm, silky body around my dick and her soft whisper droning inside my head, telling me how good it feels.

I hate myself for wanting her, craving her so badly, I’d kill to hear her scream my name.

I up the pace and her fingers curl around the binds. She bites her lip, arching her back, and the ‘O’ she moans, coupled to her trembling, tells me she’s close.

Falling on top of her, I drive her home.

Her screams echoed in my ear, and light exploded behind my eyes as hot semen pulsed into the swirling water slipping down the drain.

Aubree. I rode out the last of my orgasm, forehead pressed into my arm against the tiles, hand balled to a fist, while the light prickles radiated to every muscle in my body, weakening them.

Rubbing a hand down my face, I pushed upright, shaking off the momentary dizziness. For fucks sake. I’d just blown my load while fantasizing about Aubree Culling.

CHAPTER 25

Aubree

I flipped open the sketchpad to a stark white page that almost glowed in my dimly lit room. As always, I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, searching my thoughts for that strange, fairy-like female that’d plagued my mind the last couple of days, trapped in a cage far too small for her body, wings bent and bleeding. Lounging on the bed, I set to work, trying to get as many details out of my mind and onto the paper as I could.

Time passed in a blur, as it often did when I got in the zone. I focused on the lines in her face, the shadows that clouded her eyes, the pain that aged her. Details I saw in myself every time I looked in the mirror.

Fingers curled around the bars, she sat crouched, head lifted, staring toward something outside of the cage—something that called to her, telling her not to give up. To keep fighting for her freedom.