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Shunning away from it, I raised my hands. “You stay away from me, Dorian Prinze.” My throat jumped. “You get away from me.”
He twitched, the words he’d said repeated back to him. I’d done it on purpose. I wanted to cut him. I wanted to hurt him as bad as he’d hurt me, and it might have worked had I actually believed what I said. I would have been able to make him believe. I would have been able to lie.
But I was such a bad liar.
His hand braced behind my neck, and when he swiveled me around, he collided our mouths. I gasped.
“Stop,” I cried, my words saying one thing but my mouth another. He deepened our kiss, and I kissed right back. “I can’t.”
I couldn’t do this anymore, the head trip.
“Don’t fight me,” he gritted, my lip pinched between his teeth. He bit down. “Don’t. I need this. Please… I need this.”
He released my lip, his mouth closing down on mine. He drank me in, and I did cry.
Our faces were wet between us.
Where the emotion flowed from, my tears, I didn’t know. Maybe because I knew I’d regret it the minute I let him kiss me. I knew this was wrong, and that I’d both hate myself and him even more after it was over.
But that didn’t stop me from letting him into my house.
It didn’t stop me from letting him in my bed. We shed clothes along the way, toeing off shoes, socks. I jumped, and he caught me, falling down on the bed with me.
The springs labored under his weight, Dorian down to his jeans. He kissed me hard into the sheets, his bulky arms crowding around me.
“Tell me you’re not fucking with me,” he rasped, shaking above me. He pulled my lips apart. “Tell me I’m not an idiot.”
He was an idiot, and I was too. We were both so toxic to each other. We were this mass of chaos, sex, and anger…
But if he thought I was lying, lying about his arrest and anything else, that wasn’t true.
“I’m not fucking with you.” And God did I wish I was. I wanted to play him. I wanted to be the bad guy after what he’d done to me. That would have made all this easier.
It would have made these feelings go away.
I would have deserved everything that happened, but I didn’t.
A noise rumbled from Dorian’s chest, his mouth chasing a line to my navel. He had me down to my bra and panties, his teeth nipping small bites to my inner thighs.
“Open your legs for me,” he gritted, his hair tangled in my fingers. “I need your fucking taste.”
I called out as his tongue lapped through my underwear. He got a handful of my ass before he shoved two fingers past my panties.
I bucked on his digits, grinding against his face. I touched my breast, and he blew heat over my panty-covered sex.
“Be my dirty girl, Noa,” he stated, pulling his fingers out of me. He outlined my lips before pushing past them. I sucked them hard, and his eyes flared. “Fuck. Why are you so fucking good at this?”
As if he needed a taste, he kissed me after, his tongue hot and greedy. He got a handful of my underwear before tugging them off me so hard they ripped.
“These are mine,” he growled, shoving them in his pocket. I didn’t know what he’d do with them, but he was obviously taking them. He gripped my face. “No one else gets to taste you.”
I let him think that, almost believing it when he disappeared between my legs. He wrapped my legs behind his neck, then proceeded to suck my lower lips into his mouth.
“Dorian,” I ground out, my sex aching. He had the nerve to chuckle over me.
“No one else makes you feel this way, Noa,” he said, his tongue shoving into my heat. “No one else can do this for you.”
It was as if he was telling himself that as much as me, and how I wanted him to be wrong. I needed him to be wrong. Dorian Prinze wasn’t good for me. I didn’t want him.
