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So, I was right earlier. He heard that, and he didn’t like it. Too bad for him. I try another technique and bingo. I can feel him shatter as my leg intertwines with his, which makes him fall on his back. To block him, I climb onto him, my legs on each side of his waist. Bad idea. His breathing matches mine, and we are completely out of breath. I move my hips to get a better position, and I feel his two hands on my waist. What is he doing?
“You won.” His deep green eyes bore into mine. I’m still trying to catch my breath, but I don’t know if it’s from the fight or the fact that his hands progress slowly higher than they should be.
“What did you expect?” I ask, my voice raspy.
He locks his hands lower and, without any notice, switches our position. He’s now on top of me. One hand is close to my head, while the other one is still on my hips. My breathing is superficial, and that’s not because of the fight anymore.
He’s too close, way too close. I’m still angry at him, but my body doesn’t get the memo. It craves his touch. He leans closer, and I shift uncomfortably.
“I expected a lot of things. But seeing this feisty version of you makes me want to know what else changed.” His hand leaves my hip to go higher. I have completely lost all my abilities to move. Shocker. It’s like I’m back eight years ago. Controlless, at his mercy, and completely hypnotised by the green of his glare. “Do you still like to bake? Do you still do that thing with your lips when you read one of your dirty books? Are you still sassy in bed?” His hand rises with each subsequent question, reaching higher and higher.
I try to compose myself and not show how much I’m aroused right now. It’s not his question. It’s his voice. He always had this gravelly, deep voice, which was enough to make me wet.
“I’m afraid that’s something you’ll never know,” I reply, trying to be confident.
His hand slightly touches the side of my breast, which makes me gasp. The bastard smirks. He smirks. He parts my legs, and I feel his weight fully between them. He continues the same process with my thigh, his touch sending shivers down my spine. He slides his other hand up my thigh until it reaches the front of my leggings. I attempt to move, but he blocks me.
“What are you doing? Let go of me.” But this guy is built like a fucking wall and doesn’t budge. He brings his lips to my ear, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Do you really want me to let go, or do you want me to take care of your pussy? I can smell your arousal. Your body still reacts to mine.” My brain and my body are in complete disagreement. While my brain knows it’s a bad idea, the hunger for his touch consumes me, like a starving man consumed by his desire for food. “Tss, stop fighting it. I know your body, Tink. It craves the release that only I can give you.” As his fingers dance over my breast through my top, I can’t help but moan softly.
“This is a bad idea.” My voice is barely a whisper. I'm not even convinced of my own words.
I never said I was known for my good choices. I’m going to regret this.
His lips start to trace light kisses on my neck and find my weak spot.
I struggle to convince myself of what I am saying, let alone anyone else.
“You… I hate you.” My voice is so low. I can barely hear it. I feel his fingers slowly inching their way up my thigh as he continues to kiss my neck. It’s barely a touch, but I feel it to my bones. He keeps tracing circles over my knickers, teasing me until I can’t take it anymore.
“Tonight is for you, and I’ll go slow. But next time, I’ll fuck you like you deserve.” Without warning, he tears my leggings apart. I gasp and fuck if that wasn’t sexy. I feel his gaze devouring me, like a famished predator eyeing its prey.
“W-what are you doing?” I ask, still stunned by his primitive behaviour.
“Do you wear those kinds of lingerie for other men?”
I decide not to answer his question. Doing that will only intensify his desire. Possessive is an understatement to describe him.
He is kneeling between my legs, his mouth really, really close to my pussy, making it throb with his warmth. “Because if that’s the case, I might need to kill each of them.”
Pulling my underwear aside, he slides his finger into my wetness, thrusting it in and out.
“So fucking wet,” he whispers.
“I don’t need you to be sweet.” The sensation is so overwhelming that I find it hard to speak. “If you want to fuck me, then fuck me because it won’t happen again.” As the pleasure intensifies, my moans grow louder.
“Oh, but baby, it will happen again. You have my word on that.” As he removes his finger from me, I hear the wet sound of his mouth as he sucks on it. “Hmm, so fucking sweet. I missed the taste of your cunt in my mouth.” His eyes are filled with a primal hunger. “How many men touched you?”
“W-what?”
“You heard me. How many men touched what’s mine?”
“I’m not yours.”
“You’re not?” A low, guttural growl escapes him, signalling his intentions before his mouth descends upon my pussy.
“Oh. My.” I’m lost for words.
