Page 93 of Devious Obsession
And I’m not sure if that’s because of me or him.
Or both.
“I’m afraid of a lot,” I say lightly. I twist to face him. It’s meant to be humorous, maybe, but it falls flat even in my ears. It’s the one bit of truth I’ll allow myself. That I’m desperately scared of alot, and trying to face it has given me split results.
Sometimes good.
Sometimes fucking triggered.
He motions for me to stand. It puts me right in front of him, my abdomen even with his face. He grips my hips and tows me forward, pressing a kiss to my stomach through the jersey.
“What are you afraid of tonight?” he clarifies.
I shiver. I don’t know how to answer that without dragging us out of this moment, and he seems to agree. Because he doesn’t ask again. Instead, he works the edges of the jersey up, and his fingers skim my bare skin.
Goosebumps rise on my arms that have nothing to do with the cold, and I put my hands on his shoulders. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I think I trust it. Maybe. Trust is one of those fragile things that may or may not break. And he’s got it for now—somehow. Impossibly.
Now I just have to hope he doesn’t smash it—and me—to dust.
Because that, I won’t come back from.
26
STEELE
The sight of her in my jersey has me hard for her. Aching. And her sitting on the Zamboni like a princess just does something extra to me, too.
I step up the rest of the way and move her to sit on the hard ridge above the steering wheel. I saw someone sit on that flat top last year at one of our charity events, and I won’t lie—I used to climb all over the Zamboni when I was a kid. It’s sturdy enough to hold us.
She parts her legs, but I just shake my head and sit in the driver’s seat. It’s plush, not terribly uncomfortable. After the game, I changed into dark jeans and a dark-blue pullover, intentionally matching my jersey colors.
Now I have Aspen alone, and there are too many thoughts running through my head. Too much energy. I want to claw her shirt off and ravage her, I want to savor her slowly. I want her to kneel between my legs and suck me off. I want to kneel betweenherlegs and eat her cunt like I’m starving.
I lick my lips.
She makes the decision for me. She scoots back on the top, testing its weight. The hard plastic flexes under her, but not enough to scare her. And I doubt it would break even with both of us.
She keeps her eyes on me as she wiggles out of her jeans. Her panties come with it, and she tosses them at me. I catch the pink satin and raise it to my mouth, inhaling slightly.
Smells like her.
Sweet, musky.
Smells like how she tastes.
My mouth waters.
“You’re too easy prey,” I comment, although my heart is beating out of my chest.
“I’m not prey,” she answers, spreading her legs slowly.
It gives me the perfect view of her pussy, which is glistening wet already. And I haven’t even touched her.
Her throat works. “I’m the reward.”
Fuck.
“How can I argue with that?” I stand and shove my jeans down, kicking them off. I don’t hesitate to climb up over her, hovering until she grips my sweatshirt and drags me down.
