Page 58 of Dean's Delinquent
Gone are the suit, tie, pressed shirt, and slacks. Now, he stands there in front of me with a parted robe and another mask that conceals the upper half of his face. Despite all of that, I still know it’s him.
Nothing can change the heat in his eyes when he looks at me.
Nothing.
“Come, my damsel. Allow me to put you into further distress.”
ChapterTwenty-Two
Dean Anderson
Istudy her quivering form as my cock pulses in front of me. Eventually, her gaze slides down the front of my body to land at my dick, and her eyes widen. Such a show of innocence. It can’t be that she hasn’t seen a cock before.
But then, I might be her first man when all she played around with were boys. Either way, the manner in which she studies me is enchanting, enthralling, and wholly erotic. I want nothing more than to drag her down onto the roughened ground and have my way with her.
Fortunately for her, I don’t break my toys. Not like that, at least. A heavy sigh slips through my mouth as precum wells up to my tip. Yet again, I’m forced to have restraint.
Cumbersome, tiresome, irksome.
Crouching down, I run my fingers through her hair, memorizing the softness of her strands, the way her blue eyes darken just a touch as I caress her. It’s sentimental, I know. It’s fucking downright sappy. Right now, however, I want to commit this image to memory.
I want to see her like this, this puddle of goo and submission. Knowing her, it won’t last all that long. A wicked smile curves my cheek as I gather her into my arms and draw her against my chest.
Soon, it turns down into a ferocious frown. Shivers wrack her body, but not the pleasant kind. This isn’t the reaction I’m trying to elicit. I knew it was going to be a bit nippy out here, but her body feels so cold, like ice under mine.
A soft growl vibrates in my chest as I hoist her up and tuck her into my robe. As if on instinct, she snuggles in and robs me of my warmth. She can have it. She can have fucking all of me.
Her tiny whimpers tug at my heartstrings as I rest my free hand against the wall of shrubbery. “It’s no use,” she sighs against me, her voice almost inaudible over the pounding of my heart. “I turned the wrong way.”
“Are you absolutely sure about that?”
Again, she looks up at me, an air of defeat shuttering her features. Even so, she puffs up a touch, as if the very idea I’d find her wrong is abhorrent to her. Silly little fae.
Gripping her arm around me, she reaches out with the other and rests them on the slightly damp leaves. “See? Solid. My hand isn’t even going through.” Her lips turn into a frown as she looks at the scribblings on her skin. “I guess he was wrong.”
“Who?”
“The Russian brute. The one who looks like the entire cast of the WWE mushed into one guy.”
A bark of laughter rips from my throat and chest and shakes my frame hard enough I nearly drop my precious cargo. Now that she’s warmed up a touch, I don’t mind setting her back on her feet. “I’ve never heard Sergei so aptly described. The fact that I didn’t even have to wonder gives yet another point in your favor with your mastery of words.”
She ignores my compliment and stares at her hand, turning it this way and that. “Perhaps I did it backwards?”
“Let me see.” Gripping her wrist, I turn her palm over and chuckle. “It wasn’t fair of him to help you out. But then, this maze is created to be as confusing as possible. I would wonder how he even knew the path to take, but then it’s Sergei. I suppose it’s his business to know these things.”
Bringing her arm up, I graze the sensitive skin of her wrist with my teeth before continuing. “Sometimes, it’s not just about using your eyes. They can deceive you. Always.”
I back up a few steps and drag her against my body until the rasp of her cloak-covered ass grinds against my cock. How the hell did this turn into a teaching moment? Her arm feels slight in my grip, as if she’s ethereal, a wraith, a waif.
Small.
Moldable.
Breakable.
“What do you see?”
“A wall of ivy.”
