Torture. Pure fucking torture.
Chloe was warm and soft in my arms, her lips pressed against my chest like she belonged there and her soft tits flush against my body.
I hadn’t meant to stay with her all night, hadn’t meant to fall asleep with my body curled around hers. I only came to check on her when she let out that god awful scream, at first thinking the fucking Ghost Riders had returned, but I realized soon enough she was alone.
It was her dreams making her scream like she was being ripped apart by demons from hell.
She slept like the dead. Her breaths were long and even, her legs tangled with mine and one hand rested low on my stomach. Too fucking low while also not low enough. Every shift of her body made her fingers drift lower and then higher, a teasing dance that had me too fucking hard to sleep. Still, I knew what I was here for, so I gritted my teeth and watched the ceiling until my cock decided to go back to sleep. After we’d had sex the other night, I’d been craving her like crazy but tried to push down those thoughts. With everything going on right now, the last thing either of us needed was complications. And life had gotten fucking complicated.
Staying with her like this wasn’t protection.
It wasn’t duty either.
It was something else, and it had me all fucked up.
I should’ve left the second she calmed down, that’s what a smart man would’ve done. But then the nightmare tried to make a return and like the goddamn fool I was, I let my touch soothe her. How the fuck could I ignore those scared whimpers and the way she clung to me like she needed me? Like I was the only anchor she had in this crumbling world? I couldn’t, so I stayed, letting my touch guide her back to sleep.
That’s when I should’ve gone back upstairs to my room and left her to rest.
But I didn’t and now she was waking up, stretching her body and moaning softly. Soft, satisfied sounds that had my cock taking notice. Her hand swept across the waistband of my pants, the heat of her touch made me shiver.
She froze as if she just realized what she was doing, but only for a second before her fingertips traced up the middle of my abs, racing the lines that separated each muscle in slow, lazy moves like we did this all the fucking time.
I cleared my throat, hoping that would stop the torture.
It didn’t.
“Chloe.”
“Hmm,” she asked, her fingers still moved. Her touch still electrified me.
“What are you doing?”
She shifted on the sofa to look at me. Her green eyes were sleepy but clear and focused, the haunted look from last night was gone completely. “You feel good,” she said quietly, almost like it was a secret.
She refused to look at me, which suited me just fine because I couldn’t look away from her. Hell, I couldn’t move as her fingers continued the dance along my chest and abs. She teased me all over with feather-light strokes around my pecs, over the ridges of my abs and back down to my waistband. She circled my belly button and brushed the back of her hands up and down my sides. The moves were intimate and unhurried. They were fucking deadly to my self-control.
“You’re so hard. Everywhere.” The words sounded like awe mixed with a moan. “Toned and solid. Capable.”
My jaw clenched and my eyes slammed shut. This woman was going to kill me. Fuck the Ghost Riders, the cause of death would be this tiny wisp of a woman currently torturing me.
I wanted her more than I wanted my next breath.
Whatever she wanted I was down for, so I stayed like I was, relaxed other than the desire that pulsed through my body. I couldn’t forget the shit she’d revealed about her marriage, about the fact that she was beaten and tortured into submission, trained to please and to fear. It haunted me and I couldn’t bear being another man she feared so I stayed there and let her explore.
Torture.
She pressed her lips to the space between my chest muscles. Flicked a tongue across one nipple and then the other. She licked my abs and then lower, dragging her tongue across my hipbones while she yanked at my pants.
My cock sprang free, and she gasped, gripping it immediately and squeezing, testing out what worked for me.
I hissed out a breath with her name on it. “Chloe.”
She looked up at me, biting her bottom lip with her brows drawn into a frown. “You want me to stop?”
“Fuck no,” I growled. “I like you touching me.”
Her smile was soft but more confident that seconds before. “Okay.” She slid down until she was on the floor and my sweats rested at my ankles. Her hands rested on my thighs before sliding up to grip my cock again with both hands. Her touch was reverent, like she was studying me, trying to figure me out. Her eyes flicked up, gauging my reaction before she leaned in and kissed the tip.
