EXTRACT FOR
The Magician's Lover
(Daisy Rose)

"They could be watching," she hissed. It wasn't just that, though. The truth was that she was upset for her punishment. It hardly seemed fair that she was the one who was punished even though he was also- he was also...



She shook her head. "We shouldn't do this." 



"We should do whatever the fuck we want," he said and his fingers tightened around her body so much that she could feel the warmth of his digits as if he was actually there. He was so good at this. It was why they chose to keep him and not her. 



Doing whatever the fuck they wanted was what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. She opened her mouth to tell him as much, but found the words stuck in her throat and she could not say anything t all. He wasn't playing fair, but then again, it was not as if he had ever played fair in his life. 



"Let's not talk about uncomfortable things," he said. "I like you in this dress." 



It was the most expensive dress that she owned. He had gotten it for her. Stolen it for her. She wished that she could say she didn't like it, but it was her favorite material possession for as long as she had been allowed to keep it, which was admittedly not a very long time at all, but she treasured every moment of it. 



"You do look so very lovely in it," he hummed and lifted her up, pinning her again a wall that was not there mere seconds ago. 



She gasped when his lips descended upon her, capturing her neck and began to suck bruises on her skin. It felt good. His touch on her always felt amazing, like she had been suffocating and was finally allowed to breathe. His lips left a trail of fire on her skin as he kissed further down. He did not bother undressing her. Not yet, in any case. His lips worked over her skin over the dress, the material so thin and sheer that it might as well not be there in the first place. 



He suckled her nipple through the dress, his tongue flicking over the sensitive nub until it pebbled and grew ever more sensitive.



Gasping, she curled her arms around his shoulders and clung to him, fingers digging into his scalp in a way that should hurt, but nothing could hurt them here. 



He groaned when her knee brushed up against the hardness growing between his legs and began tugging the soft material of the dress over one shoulder so that her breast would be exposed.



"So fucking beautiful," he groaned, kissing her breast, first one, and then the other, making short work of the dress. 



"I thought you liked me in this dress," she whispered.



"I like you better out of it," he said, expert fingers grabbing onto the edges of the dress.