Page 123 of Devious Obsession
And then he explodes with a growl, his mouth dropping my nipple. He buries his face in my neck and comes inside me.
We’re still for a handful of seconds, until reality filters back in.
I shudder. I’m on my period.
I had a tampon in—which is really not advisable for sleep, but sometimes it’s justthat bad. I shove Steele off me and sit up. The sky is lightening, enough that I can see exactly the sort of mess we made.
Red coats the insides of my thighs and speckles the towel under my ass. He sits back on his heels, and I stare at his dick. Which is still half hard and pointing at me. And streaked with blood.
I close my eyes.
Horrified. A little disgusted.
“Hey.” He grips my chin. “Look at me.”
“This is—”
“Did it feel good?”
I swallow around the lump in my throat and crack my eyes open. Did it feel good? “Yeah…”
“Good. Then don’t be ashamed, because I don’t give a fuck if you’re bleeding. Your pussy is mine in all its states.” He releases my chin and pulls me up. “I took your tampon out, by the way. In case you were worried.”
Wow. Just when I thought I couldn’t be more embarrassed.
He leads me out of the room and straight into the bathroom. I watch my bare feet as he locks us inside and turns on the shower. While the water heats, he comes back to me. Runs his hands up my sides and over the outsides of my breasts. His thumbs skate over my nipples.
There’s blood on his fingers. The ones that were touching my clit…
“You want me to prove how much I don’t give a fuck?” There’s a challenge in his voice.
I don’t answer. I can’t.
He lifts me and sets me on the counter, then spreads my legs. He pushes two fingers into me, curling them. Rubbing my G-spot with expert pressure. He pulls them out and pushes them back in. Then he kneels.
My heart goes into my throat.
His gaze is locked on the tattoo, but his mouth descends lower. He sucks on my clit without hesitation. He adds a third finger inside me, and I groan. The sound of the water hides it, at least, but I can’t hide my fascination with him. Or the fact that he truly seems to be enjoying this.
He’s hard again. He palms his dick with one hand. Not stroking, though.
“Put me in the shower and fuck me again,” I say on a groan, giving in and digging my fingers into his hair. My hand seems to have other ideas than my mouth, though, because I press him harder to my core.
He snickers and flicks my clit with his tongue, then sucks harder. His teeth scrape it. He travels higher, his nose brushing the sensitive tattoo. The one that proclaims mehis.
For the first time, I feel it.
Like he owns me.
I shudder at the realization. I’ve let him inside me in more ways than one, and the vulnerability in that rocks through me.
All my life, I’ve learned to never trust a man. I barely trust my uncle—he’s inserted himself into my routine now, thanks to Steele—but Mom never trusted anyone except us. We were always on the run, always looking over our shoulders.
So why would I open myself up to hurt?
But Steele has broken me wide open, and he’s feasting on my insides.
“Stop,” I whisper, tugging his hair. “I can’t do this.”
