Seduced by the Assassin (Forbidden Confessions 7)

“Filthy?” My voice shakes.

“Lewd. Obscene.” He leans in, his low whisper right in my ear. “Absolutely depraved. Your head might tell you to object, but your body won’t let you. So you won’t stop me. You won’t want to.”

“Why?” But I know. I’m too in love and too aroused to give him anything except my most enthusiastic yes.

“Because, in my mind, I’ve already fucked you to screaming orgasm a thousand times in ways you’ve never even thought of. I’m going to plow that so-tight pussy and corrupt you completely. I’ll keep at you until you live to take every inch of me wherever, whenever, and however I want.”

Heat washes over me. I feel weak-kneed as Ransom glances down at my fingers frozen on my zipper. “Get your pants off.”

“Yes, Sir.” The words come out of nowhere as I shimmy the jeans down my hips.

His long, slow smile only gets more wicked as he watches me kick the denim away, then settles his knuckles over the seam of my pussy, clinging wetly to my panties, and starts a slow, slow rub over the engorged halves of my sex. “Oh, how soft and sweet. And already so needy. You’re going to be an absolute pleasure to defile.”

I whimper and arch into his hand, desperate for more.

He pulls away, wagging a playful finger at me. Then he licks it, damp with my juices, and moans.

I feel faint. “Ransom…”

“You’re not naked yet. The longer you stall, the longer we wait. But if you like the tease, I’ll oblige. I’ll make you so hot you’ll beg. And you’ll get on your knees to do it.”

Part of me thinks that sounds horrifying and humiliating. The rest of me thrills at the notion that he could arouse me enough to make me.

My breasts draw up tighter. My pussy weeps more. I’m half-ready to throw myself at him.

I reach behind my back and unhook my bra. When my breasts fall free, I feel more exposed than being mostly naked should make me. His black stare plucks my nipples as if his visual touch is tactile. The tips draw up tighter. I wish like hell Ransom would say something. Do something. But he merely stares and waits for me to completely bare myself to him.

Swiping my tongue across my lip, I fidget. The little bit of friction I get from shifting my weight does nothing to alleviate the ache between my legs. Even when his fingertips whisper across the side swell of my breast, that’s not the touch I’m feeling. That’s not the touch I’m dying for. I want it right where my panties, clinging to my puffy sex, are the only thing left shielding me from his piercing gaze.

“You’re stalling.” He raises a brow.

“No.”

“You are.” The fingers caressing my breast suddenly cradle it. His thumb scrapes across my nipple. “Admit it.”

I suck in a shaky breath. “I don’t know.”

Am I taunting him on purpose? Seeing how far I can push him? Or am I just drowning in my own desire, too stunned and aching to move?

“Yeah, you’re teasing me.” Suddenly, his fingers close around my nipple and squeeze until I gasp. Sensations deluge me…but he pulls away. “And if you want to dish it out, babygirl, you better be prepared to take it.”

I don’t doubt him. And I know I should lose my panties right here and now. He’ll give me what I want—and crave—once I do. But the devil on my shoulder, the one that doesn’t want to give him the upper hand because he snapped his fingers, resists.

I press my wandering hand against the hard ridge behind his zipper and squeeze.

He stiffens, hissing in a breath, and grabs me by the wrist. “If you want cock, I’ll give you all you can handle—but not until those panties are gone. If you don’t hurry, I’ll shred them the second they come off.”

So I won’t have any underwear. Every second I spend here with him, my pussy will be bare. So he can look at me. So he can touch me. So he can torment me. So he can take me.

The thought makes me dizzy.

I want Ransom and everything he’s promising with both his words and those hot, glittering eyes. And I’ll give in, probably soon, but the anticipation now is so painfully delicious.

“What if I’m afraid?” I ask, biting my lip.

His smile only turns hotter. “If you were really afraid, I’d help you put your clothes back on and sit you down to talk until we worked things out. But you’re yanking my chain to make me impatient.” He tsks. “You must want to suffer.”

“I don’t.” Or do I?

What am I getting myself into? I’m not sure, but I’m loving every giddy, unexpected moment of it.

“If you want me, drop them.” He presses his thumb against my pussy again and slides it over my clit in a gentle back-and-forth caress until I moan. “I’ll make you so fucking glad you did.”