He . . . hates himself. It’s clearer now that the smooth arrogance isn’t there to shield his features.
With a single step, I close the distance between us.
My palm presses over his heart, the sleek pocket square skimming beneath my fingertips. At the last second, I pull the pocket square from his suit. A questioning smirk alights his face as I tuck it down my cleavage and into my dress for safe keeping.
A momento. A single perfect moment that I actually want to remember from this tainted city.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper and it only makes him smirk even more with disbelief.
With my hand against his chest, I lightly push him away from his golden seat. One step after the other, he gives me space. A dry breath hits my throat as I realize just how real this is. And then I quickly take action.
My heel teeters on the chair, but I only linger there for a moment before hopping up to sit on the brick ledge of the balcony. The full moon hangs above, hundreds of Carnals walk below. And then there’s us, suspended in this beautiful moment of possibilities.
“What do you want, Bellatrix?” he asks on a tone of pure gravel, his tongue sliding out to roll across his lower lip.
Everything blooms to life in my chest as little by little, I pull at the edge of my pretty gown. It bunches in my hands. Soon there’s fistfuls of the wrinkled fabric in my hands. The cold breeze licks across my thighs until there’s nothing at all separating me from him.
“Come here,” I whisper on a surprisingly even, sultry voice.
He prowls toward me, his galaxy eyes darkening the closer he gets. His chest brushes against the lacey material covering my breasts. He’s so near, I want to lean into him even more and close the distance.
“Well?” he asks darkly.
“Get on your knees.”
Silver flashes through the wells of his hooded eyes.
Big hands skim over my knees, racing shivers up my thighs. And then he lowers.
The breath in my lungs catches. He never once lowers his gaze. I can’t look away. When he’s on the ground, bowing before me, I say what I’ve been thinking for too long.
“Fuck me with that cruel, cruel mouth of yours, Synder.”
The twitch of his lips is barely seen before his head dips down, the light warmth of his breath fanning over me, making me shift with anticipation. Soft lips skim my thigh. Then intense heat lashes across my pussy. He laps me up slowly, tasting me like he never wants to forget. When his tongue swirls higher, he focuses there, sucking hard before relenting to press over my clit all over again with another hard flick. The wind catches my moans as my head tilts back. Over and over and over again, he repeats that tormenting process until my fluttering lashes open, and I’m crying out to the starry heavens above. Lightning flashes across the darkness while waves and waves of reckless tingles crash through my body. My fingers fist through soft hair before hitting the hard exterior of spiraling horns. I hold on there. With both hands, I use him as leverage, grinding my sex against him until my hips are fucking his sinful mouth to the very brink of ecstasy.
Big hands jerk my hips forward, pressing him even harder against my clit until blinding light flashes behind my eyes. My moans are a melody that matches the thunder above as my orgasm shatters all through me on wrecking waves.
I haven’t even caught my breath before he’s lifting me and dragging me forward. He falls into the golden chair and brings me right down on top of the apparent hardness that’s pressing against his thin layer of clothing. Casually, he rocks his rigid length against me, pulling a breath from my lungs at the mere pressure he’s putting against my swollen sex.
I’m still holding his horns. He’s smiling up at me like I’m the most sinful creature he has ever laid eyes on. His hand slips between us, cold fingers slide across my wetness, and his smile grows. His other hand holds on against the curve of my ass as he leans in close, his lips ghosting along mine.
“No one’s ever going to fuck you like I do, baby,” he promises once more.
The night I spent with Ruin and Malace flashes behind my eyes, and the shame I thought I’d feel for thinking of them... it isn’t there.
Synder isn’t a possessive man. The way he phrases that promise alone tells me he doesn’t think he owns me.
“And what if someone else does?” I challenge.
His fingers roll across my clit, tearing a gasp from my lungs and pulling a wicked smirk to his lips.
“Then I guess I’ll have to try harder,” he whispers across my lips before pressing a slow, demanding kiss there.
My hips react to every teasing movement of his hand. Between kisses, I ask the most confusing question.
“Does the idea of me being with someone else not make you crazy?”
His head shakes, but he doesn’t stop the slow press of his lips to mine.