He kisses me again, and I moan, quickly losing my ability to control this situation. I’d rather him be holding a gun; I’d have a better shot at defeating him than with his tongue in my mouth.
I don’t know which way Langston would rather me choose either—telling him the truth or letting him fuck me until I lose control. Whatever I choose, he wins.
Forgive me, Phoenix.
We were always doomed to become nemeses. My cousin, who gets to love the boy I grew up with freely. She carried his child, got him to put a ring on her finger and vow eternity to her. I know he says that he wants to get divorced, but when it comes down to it, Langston is an honorable man. He won’t divorce Phoenix unless she agrees.
With every tantalizing kiss, I’m becoming more and more of the tragic whore I was always destined to become. I’m the thorn in his side. The darkness that overshadows his children and brings the monsters in the night.
I may be the cheater, but I won’t be the monster that brings children anymore suffering. It’s just one of the many reasons that Langston and I are not meant to be together. He’s wrong—we don’t belong together in any way. Our lives have become intertwined because of that damn letter that he stole from me and because fate played a sick game on us by having Langston adopt my child.
Knowing that every kiss we exchange is going to break our hearts that much more when this ends doesn’t stop the kisses. It doesn’t stop our teeth from clashing, our tongues from wrestling, and our moans from escalating.
Each kiss brings me further away from reality. I forget to be quiet to prevent Phoenix from hearing, and I no longer flail my arms in failed attempts to push him away. Instead, my fingers curl around the neck of his shirt, holding him tight against me so I can invade his mouth with my tongue.
His fingers continue to drag down my flat stomach filled with enormous butterflies that build into a swarm of feelings that I’m never going to be able to decipher.
“I want this,” I say as his hands lower.
We both lock eyes. I expect a cocky grin; instead, he gives me a seductive gaze that has my insides melting. His hand finds the top of my jeans and begins to unbutton them. We’ve stopped kissing, both intensely focused on what his hand is doing.
This is wrong.
So wrong.
But my whole life has been wrong. After this is over, I may regret the pain I’ve caused, but right now, I just want this man—the only man left in the world that I trust to make me feel good.
“Can you be quiet, huntress?”
I nod as his hand pushes beneath the fabric of my jeans and cups my sex. I moan loudly, before realizing my mistake and biting down on his shoulder to keep from making another sound.
He chuckles. “I’m not going to let you be quiet. I’m going to make you scream until the pilot comes back here thinking he needs to make an emergency landing.”
“Your fingers aren’t that good.”
His scruff rubs against my cheek as his tongue tickles the rim of my ear. “Liar. Everything about me is that good—fingers, tongue, cock. I’m going to make you scream my name with each one.”
All of my brain cells burst with his deeply arrogant words. I slant my head as I resume kissing him. I no longer remember why I don’t want to make a sound, just that I don’t. Kissing him muffles any sounds that escape. He’s right; I will moan, groan, and scream every time he touches my clit or pushes himself inside me.
His fingers push aside my panties and spread my lips before dipping inside.
I moan around his bottom lip that I’ve pulled into my mouth and sucking ferociously, trying to control myself.
“So wet for me already.”
His fingers push further inside me, spreading me and making me feel whole. His thumb brushes over my clit.
I bite down with everything I can—using his lip like someone might bite down on a belt in olden days when they are about to lose a limb. Langston is doing the same to me—except instead of losing a limb, I’m losing my soul.
His thumb is merciless as he rubs faster and faster on my clit until water stings my eyes from trying to keep my screams inside. I taste his blood in my mouth, but he doesn’t surrender. It seems he’s happy to pay the price in blood to make me pay in sin.
I crumple as his fingers thrust in and out, crushing all my walls I’ve built to keep him out.
His hand slides down my back before he dips me sideways in our row of seats until I’m lying on my back. He settles between my spread legs, his hand still inside me, but our mouths separated. I no longer have his lip to bite down on, nothing to muffle my cries.
He smirks down at me, knowing once again that he’s won.
Why did I need to keep quiet again?