Page 48 of Devious Obsession
An unholy moan escapes me.
“Why are you so wet?” His voice curls like smoke in my ear, and he continues to finger-fuck me. He adds a third, and I widen my stance. “Why do you like this?”
I don’t know.
I may be dripping between my legs, but my mouth is dry. I shift my weight, but he leans harder on my back. My cheek is against the cool paint, no doubt leaving a smear of makeup. He pulls out of my pussy so suddenly, I want to yell at him. Or scream.
But I refuse to give him that much.
Still, I’m not prepared for him to slide his wet index finger into my asshole.
I arch and try to escape it, but he doesn’t stop. Not until I kick out at him, and my heel collides with his shin. His grip loosens enough for me to yank free, and I whirl around. Shove him back with two hands on his chest, my expression shocked.
“Why did you do that?”
“I wanted to.” His eyes gleam. “Are you going to stop me?”
“Yes.”
“Try,” he goads.
I snarl, but he comes at me again. We go down in a heap, and I use all my strength to roll us. I straddle him for all of a single second before we’re moving again, and I hit the floor hard. The pain gets my blood pumping.
He pries my legs apart with his knee, and his fingers are pushing back into me.
“What do you need, sweetheart?”
“For you to get off me,” I growl.
He shakes his head once, and then his fingers are replaced with the tip of his cock.
I shove at his shoulders as he thrusts into me.
I scream.
His middle and ring fingers fill my open mouth. I gag when he hits the back of my throat, pressing down on my tongue. I could bite him if I wanted, I think, but then he shifts his hips, and his cock strokes something deep inside me.
I groan around his fingers. He’s holding my mouth open, his palm against my lower lip and chin, the rest of his fingers fanned across my face. The two in my mouth move across my tongue with the same tempo that he fucks me.
At some point, I stop pushing him away and start pulling him closer.
The lights flicker on above us.
Steele freezes, glancing over his shoulder. We’re off to the side of the room, having somehow drifted closer to the bathroom. It would be easy for us to get up and lock ourselves in there. Footsteps on the stairs send a spike of fear through me, and I can’t see who it is. His body blocks it.
Oh hell no.
I squirm, trying to get away.
He uses his free hand to hike my thigh up, my knee bending. It can only go so far, my leggings still stuck around my ankles. But he thrusts into me again and rocks his hips harder.
I glare at him and close my teeth over his fingers.
“Don’t,” he warns. “Or I’ll make sure you don’t come for a week.”
That… sounds like a threat he’d follow through on.
“Are we playing eight ball—oh, shit.”
