Page 9 of Vicious Secrets
“Please, suck on my clit,” I gasp.
Siro pulls out of me, his lips crashing against my wet skin and trailing upward in audibly sloppy kisses. His tongue flicks at the bundle of nerves, sending jolts of pleasure rocketing through me. My sore clit pulses with my heartbeat, hips bucking along with each lap of his tongue. I rake my fingers through my hair. My mind breaks free of horny jail and devolves into a hot mess of desire.
“Finger me, please.”
A finger presses inside me, moving in and out in tortuous slow strokes.
“No. Like you’re angry at me. Like you’re punishing me.”
Both his finger and tongue pick up the pace. He pounds into me, his hand slapping my ass. My hips bounce, meeting every stroke.
“Fuck, you feel so good, Siro.”
He makes a noise against my pussy that sounds vaguely like a moan.
That sound feeds directly into my disturbing fantasy. My eyes roll back in my head, pressure in my hips so close to breaking the damn and drowning me in ecstasy.
“I’m close, so close,” I mutter, thrashing my head from side to side. “Curl your finger up.”
Siro’s finger hits my g-spot with brutal, hungry strokes. I bite my lip to stop myself from crying out his name. Fireworks burst before my eyes, my body shuddering as my orgasm slams into me.
My fingers dig into his hair, keeping him in place. My pussy pulses around his finger, trying to push him out of me. My legs bounce and shake like someone is zapping them with an electric prod.
Siro lets go of my thighs and pulls my fingers from his head, not seeming to care if his hair is yanked out in the process. He rises to his feet, looming over me. A line forms between his brows as he blinks down in disappointment.
Oh no, what did I do wrong?
“You’re bleeding,” he says through thin, wet lips. My arousal drips off his chin and lands on the lapels of his suit coat.
I touch my mouth, and sure enough, my fingers come back red. “I’m alright.”
Siro huffs, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket before snatching my wrist and yanking me up into a sitting position. He wipes my fingers clean before carefully dabbing the soft fabric on my lips.
“This might smear your make-up,” he mumbles as he rubs my chin. His gaze is on my mouth, eyes as focused as lasers.
“Oh well.” I shrug and smile.
When he straightens up to pull away, I grab the hand holding the blood-stained cloth. Siro’s eyes flick to my hands on his own.
“Your turn,” I say as I dance my fingertips over his smooth, tattooed skin and steal the cloth to clean the “me” off his face. As I clean his face, Siro puts on an excellent impression of a marble statue. From how little his skin is moving as I swipe along his jawline, his teeth could crack at any second from how hard he’s clenching.
As soon as I pull my hand back, Siro plucks the cloth from my fingers and tucks it inside his suit coat.
Now what? I rub the back of my neck and smile. “Thanks for the orgasm.”
Siro’s eyes narrow into a cold glare. Shit, he thinks I’m mocking him. Instinctively, I scoot away from him. My butt knocks the throw pillow onto the floor.
Rubbing my arms to warm them, I look down at my lap. “I’m sorry, Siro, that came out wrong. I appreciate your attentiveness; it’s rare to have that in a partner.”
A harsh shuffle of fabric draws my gaze upward. Siro stands with his back to me, but it’s obvious from the movements of his arms he’s adjusting an erection.
“Do you want me to reciprocate?” I ask in a whisper, not sure if that’s a rule he’s comfortable with toeing.
“No.” He shakes his head, not bothering to look back over his shoulder. “And I don’t think I’ve ever been called attentive. Or ever been immediately apologized to.”
“I don’t know if I’m too impatient or too confrontational. I don’t like leaving anything lingering.”
Siro turns around to face me. The corners of his lips turn up, and my heart skips a beat. I feel like I’m bearing witness to a dark secret. As he approaches me again, he slips a velvet box out of his pocket. “Would you like me to get down on one knee?”
