Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
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Was the ring simply an imitation of it? A jeweler's rendition of moonlight? Originally I'd thought of the gem adorning Laurena's finger as starlight...but moonlight. My heart began pounding for a new reason altogether. Moonlight was one of the last two things I needed, now that I had the Crown of a Princess.
"It's pure moonlight, trapped into an impression of a gem," Mr. Whiskers answered huskily, kissing tiny kisses across my cheekbone, not realizing I'd stilled and stiffened in his arms.
Moonlight...
And he had it, somewhere on him.
Where?
His pocket. He'd slipped the gem inside his pocket.
Should I steal it now or later? If I left it until later I might not get this chance again. I needed to be opportunistic. I had to be. I had to think like a thief.
"This is so fucking weird," he grouched as he pushed at the footballer's shoulder pads that also shielded my breasts. He loosened a wholly irritated growl. "This is driving me fucking insane," he barked, tugging at it.
I frowned at him, jostled about by his temper tantrum. "It's my chastity belt. No second base."
His dark eyebrows slashed up and he looked so desperate and disappointed I wanted to laugh. "I want...I want second base...let me...fuck it, I'll be your second base."
And the idea of how to steal from him while he was distracted slunk into my mind.
I wriggled myself, letting him know I wanted free. He released me and I slid to the floor, my legs a little wobbly beneath me.
He braced his hands on the wall to either side of me, breathing hard and staring at me warily, wondering what I was going to do. If I was going to go through with it. I sucked in a deep breath, looking up at him beneath my eyelashes.
I daren't lie. Even I knew I wanted to do this. Though guilt nibbled at me, most of me was intrigued and excited to touch him.
Tentatively, I reached up to coast the flat of my hands down his crisp shirt, feeling his powerful physique beneath my palms. Magnificent. I ran the tips of my fingers up and down his chest, and with each downward glide, I went lower and lower and lower but never going as far as he wanted.
His pupils flared wildly. "Lower," he rasped, desperate. "Fuck. Go lower...Gods..." The words rolled together as he jittered on the spot. "Lower, lower, lower, fuuuck, lowerlowerlowerloowwweeeerrrrr..."
A small wicked smile tugged at one corner of my mouth to think that I held this kind of power over him.
So desperate.
Utterly desperate to have someone touch him. Me.
I'd never touched anyone.
In the space of a few hours, I'd orgasmed merely from someone breathing and nipping and sucking on my ear. Kissed him. Kissed a lot. Pressed against his body and felt him, a hard length between my thighs.
