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I want to tell him I’m not, but I am. I’m scared and he knows it. My badass self has left the building in this insanely large bathroom and in its place stands a scared girl about to give herself to the man she might like on a superficial level. I mean, he’s hot and scary—yes, this is a romance book match made in literal hell. I know he is only using me, but why do I want to hold him? Why do I want to ask him about the lonely look I saw in his eyes before?
He stares at me. “What?” he asks—more like barks.
“Nothing,” I whisper, and whimper when his hand slowly skims down to my hard nipple.
“Is this for me? Don’t get me wrong, I like it,” he growls low in his throat.
No, I want to bite out, but I hold my tongue, and he keeps staring at me. Moving his calloused thumb slowly around and over my breasts, I feel it in every nerve ending of my body.
“Fuck,” I swear and let my head fall back against the tiles while my pussy floods with wetness and his lopsided grin is back for a second before it’s gone again, while he keeps studying me, getting to know all my tells.
“Has anyone ever touched you like this?” he asks, not breaking eye contact while his thumb slowly starts to rub the peak. He cracks his neck, and the hard glare is back in his eyes again when I try to keep the moan locked in my throat that spills out anyway.
My pussy throbs with need, I stare at his cock that’s rock hard, and I lose the ability to think about anything other than I’m seriously fucked.
He slowly trails his hand over his stomach and down to his shaft. “You know how to turn me on, kitten,” he rasps against my ear. The nickname shouldn’t draw a sigh from me, but it does, followed by his chuckle while he teases his lips over my jaw. My heart is slamming in my throat while he stares at me. “Answer me,” he says as he pinches my nipple. A sting goes through my body, right to the place between my thighs, and I press them together. His smile tells me the fucker knows what he’s doing.
“Have you?” he asks, amusement shining through his voice.
“No,” I say, hating how much my voice trembles. “No,” I repeat, feeling small.
He keeps staring me down and brushes a streak of wet hair out of my face. “This is not going to work if you don’t tell me the truth.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Is this another one of your rules?”
He laughs and tosses his head back, and it’s the first real one I’ve heard. He wipes at his mouth, and I watch little droplets of water travel down his smooth cheeks. The man is flawless, like Teflon, nothing seems to stick, probably the reason why he built his empire.
“Answer me this, not mafia guy,” I start, and this gets another small smile from him. “Are you single?”
He snorts and shakes his head. “You’re asking me now, while you’re standing like that in front of me? I bet if I reached down and touched your sweet pussy, I would encounter nothing but sticky wetness.”
“You won’t,” I bite out, and he laughs again, he knows I’m lying.
“Yeah, I can’t have some girlfriend walk in here,” I mutter, averting my eyes from his intense stare.
“You watch too much TV.” He chuckles, and the sound is scary as hell.
“Maybe I do, that’s not the point. So, are you?” I mumble, biting on my bottom lip.
He reaches out and runs his thumb over my mouth, and I forget to form a coherent thought for a second there.
“I’m alone,” he answers. “I like it that way, makes it easier to get what I want.”
“How old are you?”
“You’re really asking me this?” He laughs, all boyish, and the sound makes my heart skip a beat.
“Yes, I want to know before…”
“We sleep together?” he asks, pushing his palm against the tiles next to my head.
My cheeks flush and I take a couple of breaths to slow my heartrate. Fat chance with the man standing in front of me. His other hand moves down and settles on my hip, and I close my eyes, praying he won’t hurt me.
Summer
A spark shoots through my spine, all the way from my fucking hand. Those curves are intoxicating. My blood roars straight to my cock. I can’t get enough of her. I should take it slow, but I don’t want to. I want to take everything. I narrow my gaze on her. Storm’s beauty knocks the breath right out of my lungs. I know when my eyes lock in on her she suspects there is something wrong with me. For one, I don’t feel pain like others do. Probably because I used to get slapped around at home before I moved out at fourteen. Could I ask her to give me what I want? Can she handle it? “Can you handle me, kitten?”
“Fuck you,” she snaps.
