Tempted by Deception (Deception Trilogy #2) - Rina Kent Page 0,21
contours of his face.
Those hard features and that calm façade. Those intense eyes and the set of his jaw.
My dark stranger. The killer. The tormentor.
Adrian.
My body goes completely slack underneath him as he kicks my legs apart with his knee. His free hand tears my underwear and then he slams inside me with a feral force. I cry out, my back arching off the bed.
He rams into me as if he’s intent on hurting me, as if he’s punishing me with every ruthless thrust. His groin slaps against my flesh with the savage power of his hips, filling the air with ominous intention and crashing against my chest.
“You like that, don’t you, Lia?” His voice is like velvet but with a hidden undertone. “You like being taken hard like a dirty little slut.”
I shake my head, opening my mouth to speak, but he flattens a palm over it, muffling my words.
“Yes, you do. You were touching yourself to me just now. Look at how your cunt is strangling my dick.”
I shake my head again, tears stinging my eyes. I refuse to think I’m that type of person. I refuse to think of myself as someone who gets off on such perverse acts.
But with every word out of his sinful mouth, my core tingles and my head turns dizzy. Being immobilized like this adds a scary type of anticipation. Any sounds I make come out muffled, haunting.
But he doesn’t release me.
If anything, his hold turns rigid and his rhythm takes on a feral momentum. He fucks me like he’s owned me since the moment we met. Like he’s taking what was his all along.
My walls clench and an electric shock starts in my core and shoots all the way to my spine before submerging my entire body.
“Mmm…” I moan.
“There.” Dark sadism coats his words. “Your true colors are showing. You like being taken and owned. You like being fucked like it’s your first and last. That’s what you strive to feel on the stage, too, isn’t it?” He leans down and traps the lobe of my ear between his teeth and whispers hot words, “To completely let go.”
My back arches off the bed in preparation for the orgasm.
The detonating pleasure is within my grasp. Just a little more and I’m about to reach it.
I startle awake.
For a second, I don’t know what just happened. Adrian isn’t on top of me and my fingers are rubbing against my aching pussy.
Holy shit.
Was that…a dream?
My hair sticks to my temples with sweat, and my heart beats so erratically, I’m surprised it doesn’t leap out of my chest.
It’s not news that my dreams are visceral. I used to hallucinate about them, too. That’s why I had to come up with a coping mechanism and test my pain threshold to know if they were real or not.
My cheeks heat at the fact that I was touching myself to that dream.
I remove my hand from my most intimate part with a jerk, the act shaming me to my bones.
“It must be uncomfortable to stop right before an orgasm.”
I freeze, my eyes widening as I slowly turn my head to the side. There’s no way in hell what I heard is correct. It must be some play of my imagination. Maybe I’m associating this with my dream.
Maybe I’m trapped in that dream again.
Because nothing could explain the scene in front of me.
Adrian sits on the chair at my vanity, beside the bed, his legs crossed at the ankles. His coat is lying on the armrest and both of his shirtsleeves are rolled to his elbows, revealing taut forearms fully covered with black ink.
Soft morning light comes from the balcony, but it doesn’t make his features less harsh or consuming. It takes nothing away from the face I was just dreaming about.
He taps his index finger on his thigh at a moderate pace. The look in his eyes is dark, focused, and says a thousand words without him having to utter a sound.
But no, this isn’t real.
I reach a hand down and pinch my thigh. Pain explodes on my skin and I wince.
Adrian doesn’t disappear.
Oh, God. Why is he not disappearing?
His gaze zeroes in on my hand that’s still on my thigh and something passes in it before he slides it back to my face.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is barely a whisper while I struggle to process the scene.
“I drove you home after you got drunk last night.”