Page 9 of Brutal Sin

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Page 9 of Brutal Sin

He released her, trapping her between two immovable objects, one devilishly warm, the other chillingly cold. He kept her on her toes. Where had this man come from, and how did he get a cheat sheet on herbody?

No. It wasn’t her body. It was her mind. He was fucking her from the inside out, his words entrancing her with arousal, his confidence inspiring arrhythmia-inducinghope.

“Put them on the locker, Ella.”

She bit her lip and raised her hands, freezing them in place against the metal. There was a heartbeat of silence, the quiet almost deafening when mixed with the rush of blood in herears.

He lifted her skirt, the hem scratching sensitive skin like sandpaper instead of elegant fabric. Every inch of her responded in erotic fascination—her nipples tightened, her breasts ached, even the hair on the back of her neck rose, eager and greedy formore.

The sensations were foreign. Years had passed since her body had reacted this way. A lifetime.

The smooth graze of his fingers cut across the curve of her bottom, then lower, between her thighs. Slow and torturous.

“You’re soaked.” His teeth grazed along her shoulder, inspiring a shudder. “But how can that be, sweetheart? I thought you were an ice princess.” He nudged aside the crotch of her panties, the slightest brush of her sex sending a wave of pleasure from her core outward. “Turns out you’re just as eager for my dick as everyoneelse.”

A hiss of breath escaped her lips. She wanted to hate him. To despise his skill.

The exact opposite happened.

She was indebted to him, her orgasm so frighteningly close she was actually fightingit.

“On second thought, you don’t even need my dick, do you?” His derisive chuckle peppered her skin. “I bet I could get you off with one finger.”

She closed her eyes, unwilling to admit it would take a lotless.

“Should I proveit?”

A lone fingertip parted her folds, sliding with ease through her arousal. He learned her, trailing inside and out. Back and forth. Around and around. Never penetrating. Only teasing her to the point of silenced hysteria.

He didn’t rush, didn’t falter in his blissful assault. He was too good, too skilled, and not merely with his touch. His precision came from strategy—a game plan she appreciated whole-heartedly if the lust and adrenaline flooding her veins was anything to goby.

“Enough with the questions.” She bucked against him, fighting the mental connection and focusing on the physical. Instantly, she was pushed against the lockers with a responding jerk of his hips. She needed him to do it again, this time with his cock inside her. Over and over. “You talk toomuch.”

“Then I’llstop.”

Panic flooded her veins. Shit. She wanted his voice. Needed it. The threatening drawl was the cause of her bliss, and she knew he was arrogant enough to withhold it from her. “I take that back. Keep talking… I-I need you to keep talking.”

“No, you don’t,” he whispered into her hair, each word softer than thelast.

“I do.” She waited long moments, her hips circling to follow the trail of his fingertip. “Please.”

Christ, she was begging for sound. Pleading forhim.

He didn’t respond. Not with words. Only movements. His finger continued to glide around her sex, outlining her pussy lips, then straight down to her core. He circled her opening, painfully slow, deliciously teasing.

She whimpered. Mentally begged.

He felt so good, but she needed the mental stimulation. The dirty words were necessary to get heroff.

“Talk to me.” She shoved back against his chest. And again, when he didn’t answer. “You won’t make me come likethis.”

That finger kept circling, turning her into a liar with the efficient way her orgasm hovered. She shot a pleading glance over her shoulder and their gazes connected in an instant. His confidence washed through her. There was no denying she was in skilled hands. Everything about him hit the rightmark.

His touch.

His focus.

His understanding.