Page 10 of Hide From Me
“I, uh. I’m not the entertainment.”
His low chuckle vibrated against my back.
“No. You are not. My art is.”
His art?
“You’re the artist? I’m so sorry. Did I do something wrong? I forgot the mask, but it’s on now. I can just?—”
His hand was over my mouth, and lord help me, I didn’t bite him. Why didn’t I bite him? Was it bad to admit that he smelled like heaven if heaven smelled of grease and metal and male musk? Fuck. I’d been going down a very dark road of sex starvation, but this was a new low.
The hand now over my mouth let me have my wrist back, except that his other hand slid over the smooth, paper-thin fabric of the dress I hadn’t picked out.
“This fits you perfectly.”
I tried to say something, but it came out muffled.
“You don’t need to thank me. You coming is thanks enough. I told you I’d always protect you.”
My breathing slowed at those words. My heart stuttered.
His hand slipped lower over my belly, across my hip, and stopped right at the top of the slit of the dress. The dress showed a lot more skin than I’d ever thought of showing. Even my prom dress had covered up more, and I’d been younger and dumber back then. Of course, I’d never actually worn it either. My date had never shown up.
His fingers played at the seam, and I sucked in a breath under that controlling hand of his as his fingers danced over the crease of my thigh and hip, moving ever closer to a certain area I wasn’t sure I didn’t want touched by a mysterious stranger.
“Tell me why you’re here,” he said. His voice was low and quiet. He’d said he’d protect me and only one person had ever said that. “I’m removing my hand. Don’t scream, and I won’t hurt you. But answer my question.”
His hand dropped to my throat, and fuck if my body didn’t seem to come alive with a pulse of need all on its own. The man hadn’t don’t anything yet. His fingers still played at just this side of the wrong side of innocence under my dress and his other hand created a really sick kind of necklace that, apparently, I was into.
“I got an invitation?—”
“Shhh. Not here. Not Enigma. Why are you back in my city?”
His city? That couldn’t be the boy I’d thought he was. This couldn’t be my Cas. He didn’t own the city. So who was this, and why was I just letting him touch me?
“It’s a free city.”
Why not poke the artist? I was getting a thousand dollars to be here. If he wanted to play twenty questions in the corner, fine.
His lips nearly touched the edge of my ear, and I shivered at the heat of every word.
“I told you to run. I told you to hide. I told you to never look back, and yet here you are, sweet little mouse. My sweet little blossom.”
This time, my heart stopped.
“Cas?”
He didn’t answer. Not really. His tongue traced over the shell of my ear. His fingers below my dress danced ever closer to my pussy. My entire brain was short circuiting as his flingers played with the edge of my panties, pushing past the pathetic barrier.
“Please, tell me it’s you.”
One hand stayed at my throat, but the fingers of his other found my slit.
“What if it wasn’t Cas?”
Fuck. What if it wasn’t?
I tried to pull away from his taunting fingers, but the movement just pushed my ass closer into him, where I met an impressive hard length. My pussy was instantly wet.