Playing With Fire (R-18)

“Why’d you stop?” His voice was low, rough—a command that sent shivers down my spine. The so-called brokenhearted man was beneath me, grinning up at me like some sinful, wicked Joker. His eyes, dark and intense, held a dangerous glint that both thrilled and terrified me. I slapped a hand across his sculpted abs, the heat of his skin branding my palm, just to wipe that smirk off his face. The muscles beneath my touch flexed, and he only groaned, a sound that vibrated through my entire body. “Madam…” His voice cracked into a growl that went straight to my core, igniting a firestorm of desire. The air between us crackled with unspoken needs, a magnetic pull that was impossible to resist. “You’re insane!” I snapped, rolling my hips deliberately, punishingly slow. The friction was exquisite torture, a tantalizing dance on the edge of oblivion. “Scorpios are supposed to be intense—not weak! Your zodiac sign is a fraud!” That earned me a deep, rumbling laugh that made my thighs tremble. He already knew exactly why I’d stopped—and he was enjoying it, reveling in my torment. “Witch,” he breathed, voice full of heat, before his big hands locked on my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh, and yanked me flush against him. Every inch of my body screamed in protest and pleasure. Then he moved. Slow. Agonizingly slow, each movement a deliberate tease that drove me closer to the edge. Fast. A frenzied rhythm that stole my breath and left me gasping for air. Hard enough to make me cry out, a primal sound of surrender. Soft enough to drive me insane, a delicate dance between pleasure and pain. I bit out a curse, but he swallowed it with a bruising kiss, his lips crushing mine, silencing my protests. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of salt and sin. God. He tasted like trouble, a dangerous addiction I knew I couldn’t afford. When he pulled away, his mouth trailed down my throat, sucking, biting, leaving fire in his wake. Every slow, deep thrust made my pulse race faster, each movement a step closer to the precipice. “Damn, witch,” he groaned against my neck, his breath hot and ragged, before his hand slid lower, cupping my ass, spanking me just hard enough to make me gasp, a sharp intake of breath that fueled his fire. Another curse left my lips, a desperate plea for control. I clutched the headboard, my knuckles white, my legs giving out beneath me, while he ruined me with his body and his mouth—relentless, devastating. The world narrowed to the feel of his skin against mine, the taste of his kiss, the sound of his ragged breathing. The moment release tore through me, a supernova of sensation that shattered my control, I screamed—but he caught the sound with his mouth, kissing me until I had nothing left, until my body was a quivering mess of pleasure. When it was over, he laid me down gently, like I was breakable, a fragile thing he couldn’t afford to damage. He pulled the fallen blanket over our naked bodies, but it did nothing to tame the heat still sparking between us, the lingering embers of a fire that threatened to consume us both. “Madam…” His voice was velvet under the cover of darkness, a seductive murmur that sent shivers down my spine, his hands roaming over me like I was his personal map to memorize, tracing the curves and contours of my body with a reverence that both humbled and aroused me. When his palm closed over my breast, kneading slowly, teasingly, I arched off the bed with a shaky moan, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He laughed softly, a low, throaty sound that sent vibrations through my core. I elbowed him in retaliation—which he answered with a hot kiss on my neck, slow and sinful, a promise of more to come. “For someone so heartbroken,” I whispered against his ear, my breath ghosting over his skin, “you don’t seem very broken.” The question hung in the air between us, a challenge and an accusation. He didn’t answer. Just spanked me again—a tease, a promise, a sign that he was far from done with me. “What are you doing to me…” His voice was half-plea, half-command as he pressed kisses down my shoulder, his teeth nipping at my skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. “See me again. After this.” My eyes shut tight, a desperate attempt to block out the reality of the situation. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was a mistake, a dangerous detour from the path I had carefully laid out for myself. I turned to face him—bad idea. The sight of him, naked and vulnerable, his eyes filled with a raw intensity that mirrored my own, was enough to shatter my resolve. He crushed his mouth to mine, kissing me until I forgot my own name, until the world outside the small space we occupied ceased to exist. Hot. Possessive. A little desperate. His kiss was a plea, a demand, a promise of something more. Every touch was fire, igniting a blaze that threatened to consume us both. Every kiss made me want more, a hunger that could never be satisfied. When he finally broke the kiss, we were both gasping, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts pounding in unison. He buried his face in my neck, whispering things I couldn’t even catch, a jumble of words and emotions that hinted at a vulnerability he usually kept hidden. It was like he was losing his mind, unraveling before my very eyes. My brain screamed run, a desperate plea for self-preservation. My body stayed right where it was, trapped by the magnetic pull of his presence. “If you’re thinking about leaving,” he murmured, pulling me closer until my breasts pressed against his arm, the heat of his skin branding me, “don’t.” The words were a soft command, a desperate plea that resonated deep within my soul. As if I could even stand after that, after the storm he had unleashed within me. The Knight of Wands. That damned card. I should’ve known he’d burn me alive, consume me with his fire until there was nothing left but ashes. “If you were this clingy with your ex, why did she leave?” I asked, the words tumbling out before I could stop them, too honest, too reckless. The question hung in the air between us, a challenge and a vulnerability. His smirk was lethal, slow, proud. “Because she wasn’t you.” The words were a dangerous flattery, a seductive lie that I desperately wanted to believe. “Of course she wasn’t me!” I snapped, trying to regain control of the situation. “You just needed someone to talk to—how did we end up in your bed?” The question was a desperate attempt to rationalize the irrational, to make sense of the chaos we had created. His smirk deepened, sinful and smug. “Because you kissed me back. And I don’t waste time when I want something.” The words were a blatant declaration of intent, a warning that he wasn’t going to let me go easily. Then he kissed my neck again, his lips trailing lower, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “When I want someone.” The possessive tone sent shivers down my spine, a thrilling mix of fear and desire. “Like what?!” I cursed in my head, berating myself for my weakness. “If this is all you wanted, there are dating apps for that. You don’t drag someone into your bed just to ‘move on’!” The accusation was a desperate attempt to distance myself from the situation, to pretend that this was nothing more than a meaningless encounter. But I knew I was lying—because I wanted him, too. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow, a betrayal of my own carefully constructed boundaries. One night. Just one night. Then goodbye. That was the plan, the only way to protect myself from the inevitable heartbreak. “I’m not letting you go after this,” he said, his hand tracing lazy circles on my stomach, warm and possessive. “There’s something about you…” The words were a dangerous promise, a hint of something deeper that threatened to shatter my carefully constructed defenses. “There is something about me,” I hissed, trying to push him away, to create some distance between us. “I’m weird. I’m a witch. I’m not normal. So enjoy this, because tomorrow, we go back to strangers.” The words were a desperate plea, a warning that I wasn’t going to let him get too close. But he just looked at me with those dangerous, wicked eyes, his messy hair falling into his face, that smug little grin tugging at his lips. He saw through my facade, saw the vulnerability and the fear that I tried so hard to hide. God help me, he was beautiful, a fallen angel with a wicked grin and a heart full of secrets. I hid under the blanket, trying to escape his gaze, to create some distance between us. But he pulled it down, his eyes never leaving mine. “Tori…” His voice softened, turning almost tender, a stark contrast to the possessive growls of moments before. “I don’t care how weird you are. I can handle it.” “You’re not scared of me?” The question was a whisper, a vulnerability I rarely allowed myself to express. “Should I be? Are you going to curse me?” He teased, his eyes dancing with amusement. “No. I’m not that kind of witch. I like my peace.” The words were a half-truth, a carefully constructed lie to protect myself from the inevitable disappointment. “You already burned with me tonight,” he said, tucking the blanket tighter around us, his touch sending shivers down my spine. “Now sleep. Before I find another reason to make you scream.” The words were a promise, a challenge, a seductive invitation to lose myself in his arms once more. Sleep? Not when he was kissing me again, slow and deep, like a promise, a taste of something forbidden and irresistible. Tomorrow-me could deal with the consequences, could pick up the pieces of my shattered resolve. Tonight, I would surrender to the fire, let it consume me until there was nothing left but ashes.