Possess(The Syndicate: Crime and Passion 1)(35)

It was an offer she took eagerly.

She quickly pulled her short gown over her head, baring her full, beautiful curves to me. Every time I saw her, my desire deepened, made me want her more. She lifted her legs, resting one on either side of my body, and as she hovered over me, I gripped her full breasts, teasing her nipples before moving to capture the turgid peak between my lips.

She was above me now, her scalding sex brushing my cockhead as she held my shoulders tight.

I released her nipple, the low, wet-sounding pop drawing a moan from her.

But she kept moving and reached for me, circling her hand around my shaft and then gripping the base of my cock, teasing her clit before she centered herself over my cock, my hardness only barely piercing her. She stayed there for a moment, but then tightened her grip and lowered until I was halfway inside.

When she let go of my cock, she opened her eyes, still heavy-lidded with passion, and watched as she lowered herself fully onto my thick shaft.

Watching myself disappear into her body, feeling her tightness close around me was almost too much to bear, my heart pounding harder, my cock firming even more from the sight and the sensation. I watched until we were completely joined, not an inch between us.

Senna preferred slow seduction, and the other times she had ridden me, she always moved at a slow pace, liking to build to her climax.

Not today, though. After a moment, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and began to rock over me at a furious speed.

I let her take her pleasure, watching her face as the passion passed over it, watching her body as it moved above me, listening to her low, hoarse moans. She tightened atop me, her pussy clenching me tight and her body rigid above me as she came.

When she calmed, I anchored my hands on her hips and began to lift her and then pushed her back down, thrusting up at the same time. I did that again, and again, until my vision began to blur at the sides and I was finally taken by my climax.

Still connected, I flipped us so Senna lay on her back so I could look down into her face. She opened her eyes, still soft with her arousal, and then reached up to trace her fingers along my jaw, my cheeks, against my brow.

I kissed her, then pulled back to look at her again unsure of the expression I saw. I had never seen one like it from her before, and though it was peaceful, it was too close to resigned to sit well with me.

I kissed her again. Then looked into her eyes.

“It will all be okay, little flower,” I said, seeking to reassure her for reasons I couldn’t articulate.

She just smiled softly, as I kissed her again.





Twenty-Three





Senna



I went to the bathroom, headed directly for the elegant freestanding cabinet that held toiletries. Buried way in the back was a small makeup bag, one where I kept personal items, items that didn’t include makeup. My emotions had my mind swirling, my hands trembling. Maxim hadn’t softened his stance, not at all, and my need for him hadn’t lessened.

But I had more to think about than myself now.

I groped through the cabinet, my hands still trembling. I had fallen into the habit of stashing things early, back when I’d still thought there were things I could hide from Maxim. Back when I thought I still wanted to hide things from him.

I got into the bag, relieved when my fingers touched the small velvet pouch inside it. I pulled the pouch out of the bag, squeezed it in my hand for a moment, my eyes falling closed before I opened them and stared down at it.

The makeup bag slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor, but was immediately forgotten.

I exited the bathroom, the pouch clenched tight in my fingers, the weight of the objects inside heavy against my palm. I moved until I reached the window, and then stopped, staring through the sheer curtains into the darkness below.

The lights and sounds of the street were audible, but I was disconnected from it, disconnected from everything that happened below.

Now, I was disconnected from him too and had only myself. But I was disconnected from myself too, feeling so incomplete.

And the only way to fix that was to stop running, stop pretending. I couldn’t change him, and I needed to be prepared to move on if it came to that.

I squeezed the pouch again, and then turned my hand, palm up, to look down at it.

Then, slowly, I opened it and dumped its contents into my hand.

A pair of earrings fell out. They were cheap, nickel-plated with the thinnest possible veneer of ten-karat gold, tiny little specks of rock that were supposed to be cubic zirconia studs.

I had gotten them as a gift for my high school graduation, and even now, when I had been given things a million times more valuable, I treasured them. Treasured the people who had given them to me, treasured the girl who had received them.

I held them tight and then opened the window.