He adjusted his angle slightly. More direct pressure. The spot that would push her over.
*Please. Please just let it happen. I need this to end. I need to stop tasting him and feeling you fight and hating myself.*
But also—and this was the worst part—a tiny, horrible part of him was focused. Determined. Wanting to succeed not because Dante demanded it, but because failure would mean this went on longer.
Which meant he was trying to make her c*m. Actually trying.
Which made him complicit in a whole new way.
*I'm a monster. I'm as bad as him. I'm doing this. I'm choosing this.*
No. His sister. His sister's life. That was the choice.
But his tongue kept moving. Kept working. Kept doing exactly what was needed to make Novalee's body betray her.
And when he felt her start to break—when
