The Wicked in Me (Devil’s Cradle #1) Read Online Suzanne Wright

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Romance, Witches Tags Authors: Series: Devil's Cradle Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
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“So you’re not going to remove it?”

He had no way to remove it without provoking his creature to personally replace it, but she didn’t need to know that. Holding her against him, he stood and crossed to the bed. “No.” Laying her down gently on the mattress, he bent over her to lick and nip at her neck. “It does you no harm, does it?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“It shouldn’t be there!”

“You can bitch about it all you want, I’ve told you before, I know it doesn’t bother you as much as you’d like me to believe it does.”

She huffed. “Fine.” She delved her hand into his sweatpants, pulled his cock free, and fisted it tight. “Let’s make this even, though, shall we?”

He raised his head as an odd vibration ran up his hardening shaft followed quickly by a strange sensation … as if cold mesh encased his cock. “What are you doing, little witch?”

She gave him a smug grin and folded her arms just as the sensation faded away. “I cursed you.”

“You did, what?”

“I cursed you so that if you trying sleeping with another woman while we’re together, your dick will wither and rot. Why the fuck are you smiling?”

A number of reasons. One, no one else would ever have dared do such a thing. Two, he would never have seen it coming. Three, that she was so possessive of him made things more balanced. Four … “Your vengeful streak really does run as deep as mine.” That he really liked. “But then, it’s what revenants are built for, isn’t it? To avenge.”

She frowned. “This isn’t me being vengeful.”

“Ah, I see. You’re trying to turn me on.”

“What? No, you weirdo. It’s supposed to bother you enough that you’ll remove the barrier in exchange for me removing the curse.”

“There’s no need for you to do that.” Lifting her hips toward him, he went back to teasing her neck with his tongue and teeth. “I would never be so much as tempted to betray you, so the fact that you’ve cursed me … well, it’s moot.”

“Moot? Are you kidding me?” She gasped when he ground his cock against her clit. “You really are unbelievably fucking twisted if this is revving your engines.”

He hummed. “I like that you’re so possessive.”

“This isn’t about possessiveness.”

Cain sent a surge of pain/pleasure sweeping over her soul that had her arching right off the bed. “Admit it, you don’t want to remove the curse. You’re just as fucking insane as I am.” He lashed her soul yet again. “Definitely made for me,” he added, watching her nipples tighten, her skin flush, and little bumps sweep across her flesh.

He put his mouth to her ear and let out a low growl. “I’m going to wreck you again. I’m going to make you break for me.” He pressed a kiss to the pulse now beating frantically in her neck. “Love it when you break.”

Exploring her body with his hands, he repeatedly whipped her soul with pleasure/pain—sometimes he kept his lashings firm, sometimes he made them featherlight, constantly switching things up so she wouldn’t know what to expect.

She scratched at his shoulders, her pupils blown. He knew her nerve-endings would feel raw and supersensitized. Knew her breasts would be aching, her pussy would be damp, and her body would be crying out for release.

He knelt between her thighs and hooked her legs over the crooks of his elbows. “I think it’s time I put my cock where it belongs,” he said, lining the broad head up with her opening. “Inside you.”

He thrust hard, driving his dick deep as he lashed her soul yet again. She came apart with a scream, her inner muscles clenching and spasming. He slowly fucked her through her orgasm, sinking in and out too lazily for another release to build inside her just yet.

Cain planted one palm on the mattress beside her head. “Hand,” he said when the aftershocks from her orgasm slipped away. “I want the one I marked.”

She held it out to him, swallowing hard.

He cuffed her wrist and held her palm up to his mouth. Still thrusting slow and easy, he traced the C of his mark with his tongue, smiling when she jolted, knowing it would feel like his tongue had licked at her slit. He traced and flicked and danced his tongue over the C again and again, adding the occasional whip of pleasure/pain to her soul when she least expected it.

He wanted her to feel off-balance. Utterly possessed. Like her body wasn’t her own but his. His to pleasure, rule, ruin, corrupt, play with—whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Upping the pace of his thrusts, he kept licking at his mark while also teasing her soul. “You crave this, don’t you?” he said, a growl edging into his voice. “You crave what I do to you, crave the pleasure and the pain and everything in between.”


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