Page 129 of Devious Obsession
I almost jump out of my skin at the voice that comes from behind me.
Steele.
His hands drop on my shoulders, and I almost flinch again. Those hands wander, down my arms, along my sides. My hips.
“Where’s the passion?” he asks in my ear.
My heart is rioting.
His fingers slip under the hem of my shirt, dancing along the waistband of my leggings.
“Play it again,” he orders. “But… put your heart into it.”
I suck in a breath and begin again. As I start, his hand slides into my leggings. Under my panties. He cups my core, and two fingers push inside me. Slow. So slow.
My notes falter.
Without commenting, I start over. Putting myheartinto it, because god knows where else my heart may end up at the end of the night. In Steele’s grip, if he has anything to say about it.
His fingers curl, pressing to my G-spot. I can barely think, but somehow, I continue playing. Putting more feeling into it, more expression that I’d been afraid to insert before. The rise of a crescendo, the fury that this section of music demands. His thumb presses on my clit.
I gasp, my back arching. My shoulders meet his.
He’s kneeling behind me, wrapped around me like an octopus. Feeling every reaction in the dark like he’s playingmeas much as I’m playing the music. Absorbing me. His head touches my back, and his thumb moves. Just a little brush past my clit, strumming a deep chord inside me. He works in time with the music, winding me tighter and tighter. My muscles tense, on the verge of coming out of my skin, when the piece ends—and Steele withdraws.
“Oh, god.” I sag back against him.
His chuckle rumbles through me. He paints my lips with my own arousal, then rises.
“This is hiding.” His voice is so dark, it curls deep inside me.
I shift around, facing him.
“I want you to run.” He lifts his arm, pointing toward the stage exits. Where black curtains hide the doors into the back hallways, and another door that leads outside beyond it.
I rise, the adrenaline pumping through me as we stare at each other. It’s hard to make out his expression like this, even though he’s only feet away. I lick my lips and bolt past him. I’ll collect my coat and bag later.
He reaches for me, and his fingers slip through my loose hair. I let out a yelp and put on a spurt of speed. I don’t like running. In fact, running is probably one of my least favorite things. Butthis, the idea of being prey he’s hunting down, turns me on way too fucking much to care about the searing in my lungs.
It’s all just adding to the experience.
I burst outside and head back toward the woods. That’s where I originally wanted to go before Chase intercepted me. Now, though, the sidewalk is clear. I scramble across the street and onto the woodchip path. Bits kick up behind me with every step. My breath comes out in sharp pants.
Yeah, okay, so maybe being part of theexperienceisn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
I glance behind me.
He’s jogging.Slow, keeping me in his sights.
Fucker.
There’s a curve on the path, a dip, and he’ll lose sight of me momentarily. An idea ticks through my head, a scenario flashing before my eyes.
It might work.
I round the bend, my stride carrying me down the short hill, and I dive off the path. I creep between trees and skid to a stop, pressing my back to one of the thick-trunked trees. My heart is hammering almost too loud to hear anything else, and I cover my mouth to mask my breathing.
There’s nothing. The woods are too dark and silent around me. The rushing in my ears blocks out every other, more subtle, noise. Steele might’ve moved past me, or maybe he stopped.
