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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She licked her lips. “Which is what you want.”

“Of course it is.” If sex was the only way he could tie her to him for now, then he’d use it. “It’s only fair.” He dropped her hand so he could grip her thigh tight. “I crave you.”

Wynter’s breath stuttered as he began pounding into her body, stuffing her full again and again. More electric waves of bliss swept over her soul. The dark pleasure nipped like teeth, scratched like nails, and burned like sharp but light slaps.

And she wanted more.

He gave it to her, showering her soul with waves and lashes and featherlight flicks all while slamming his cock hard and deep into her pussy. Raw need carved into his face, he glanced down at where their bodies were joined. “Look how well you take me.”

It was hard to keep her eyes open when this insanely good out-of-body pleasure was wracking her very being. There was so much sensation, internal and external, she had no idea how her brain could possibly compute it all. No idea how the organ hadn’t short-circuited for at least a mere moment.

Trembling and panting, she soon ended up in that space where she floated, anchored only by the scent and feel of the man dominating her body, mind, and soul. He’d warned her from the very beginning that he wanted that extent of power over her. Well, he had it. And she wondered if he knew it yet.

A mess of chemicals and tension and so much overwhelming pleasure/plain she could barely breathe with it, she dragged her nails along his back as her release slinked toward her. “Cain …” God, she was so close.

He switched his angle, rubbing against her clit with each pounding thrust. “Now be a good girl and break for me.”

One abrupt lash to her soul was all it took. She choked on a scream as her orgasm snapped through her—intense, blinding, explosive. She shook and arched and cried.

Cain growled and licked at the corner of her eye. “Fuck.” He rode her with hard, feral digs of his thickening cock before finally exploding inside her.

When her thoughts were no longer scattered to the wind and she could finally talk again, she said, “I have to say, I’ve grown rather fond of your cock.”

A low, rumbly chuckle vibrated against her neck. “I gathered that when you possessively cursed it.”

Wynter frowned as the memory rushed back to her. It had been a spur of the moment thing, and she’d thought it would be enough to get him to remove the barrier … because she’d forgotten for a minute that he was a total fucking nutcase. “I still can’t believe you don’t care. I mean, it’s a curse.”

He lifted his head, smiling. “You know … humans often talk about the Curse of Cain. In truth, it holds a metaphorical meaning. But now? Now the term really does apply. And if anyone asks, I get to tell them that my woman is so possessive—”

“You don’t get to tell them anything.”

“Are you embarrassed that you cursed my dick? Because it really doesn’t mind.”

God, he was nuts. She was tempted to quite simply undo the curse despite that he wasn’t going to be cooperative, but maybe he was expecting that. Maybe he was calling her bluff. Well, she wasn’t so easily manipulated. “What about the metaphorical Curse of Cain thingy, what is it?”

He hummed, flicking her nose with his. “Add it to the list of things I’ll tell you one day. And when I do, you have to remember that promise you once made me.”

“That I wouldn’t run when I realized why I’m not totally safe with you?”

He gave a slow nod. “That one.”

She couldn’t even complain that he was holding back, since she was doing the same to him. Still, she might have made a snippy comment out of frustration if it wasn’t for the grave look on his face. He truly did believe there was a high chance that she’d not only want to leave him but would literally flee. “I’m not easily spooked.”

“I know, I’m counting on that. Because I get the feeling that chaining you to the bedpost to keep you here won’t be as easy as I originally thought.”

She did a slow blink. “You really weren’t kidding when you first mentioned putting me in chains, were you?”

“Snapping an iron cuff closed around your wrists will just be so much easier than tying complicated knots.”

“I’m struggling to decide what to do with that comment. But then, I think most people would.”

He pursed his lips in thought. “Yeah, they probably would.”

“You know, we always tend to have seriously weird conversations right after sex.”

“You have likely had far stranger conversations with your coven, and probably at far stranger times.”

The thing was … the man wasn’t wrong.

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