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Suddenly the taste of him made me feel dirty. I could hardly stop myself from spitting on the ground. Rough hands pulled me to my feet and flush against his body. Before I had a chance to react, he thrust his tongue into my mouth, tasting me, tasting himself.
My knees became weak as he explored my mouth. Didn’t he mind tasting himself? I thought men would find it disgusting. He sucked my lower lip into his mouth, then released it with a plop. “Your mouth tastes fucking perfect with my cum in it,” he growled.
Embarrassment washed over me again, but Growl knew no mercy. He thrust a finger into me and I gasped first from discomfort than something else, something incredible. He curled his fingers deep in me and I could feel nerve-endings inside of me I’d never felt before. Growl began sliding his fingers in and out slowly, and I was ashamed at how easy his path was, wet and hot and eager. Giving him pleasure had turned me on. Was that even normal to be that turned on by something so dirty? My forehead fell against his strong chest. I couldn’t hold it up anymore, couldn’t even stand on my own legs. The sensations held me in their stronghold. Growl’s thumb flicked over my nub of nerves, again on the edge of almost painful. My whole body reverberated with desire.
A cry sat on the tip of my tongue but I bit it back, pressed my lips against the rough fabric of Growl’s shirt. I could control the sounds I made, but my body shook with the wave of sensations crashing over it. Everything was quiet except for Growl’s and my rapid breathing. I swallowed, trying to make sense of what had just happened. But again Growl didn’t give me time to ponder. He released me and I almost lost my balance.
“I’ll order pizza. What do you want?” came his matter-of-fact question as he grabbed the phone.
I felt like someone had plunged me into water. Now that the pleasure was fading, guilt and shame and loneliness reared their ugly heads again. The brief moments of passion had made me forget what kind of arrangement this was, what kind of man Growl was. I was nothing more than his whore, cheaper than the ones he usually used in Falcone’s whore houses and unlike them I hadn’t even pretended to enjoy what he was doing. Stop it. You’re doing what’s necessary, I reminded myself.
I sank back down on the sofa. My legs were shaky and I felt drained, emotionally and physically. I needed to make a decision. Either I was going through with this and try to make Growl trust me that way, or I’d have to figure out a way to get out of this situation without him. No. I needed him.
“Cara?” Growl repeated. Hearing my name from his mouth always sent a shiver down my back,. That voice, so deep and rough. “What should I order for you?”
I shrugged. I didn’t care. Pizza was the last thing on my mind right now. It was obvious that Growl enjoyed being with me physically but on an emotional level I wasn’t getting anywhere. He always withdrew after sex. As if he couldn’t bear physical closeness after the actual act. I wasn’t sure how to change that. The worst was that I actually wanted to be close to him. The physical closeness of sex made me long for more closeness afterward.
Growl sighed. “I’ll get you tuna,” he said. “You need to eat enough or you’ll get sick.”
At least he was concerned about my physical wellbeing in a way. Though he was probably only looking after his possession. “I don’t think food will be the reason why I’ll get sick,” I muttered.
Growl didn’t say anything but I thought perhaps he’d caught the hint. It was difficult to say since his eyes were always blank or guarded, and his expression just the same. He picked up his phone and ordered two pizzas, still stark naked. I couldn’t stop myself from admiring his muscled butt. When he turned around, I could read the inked text over his breast for the first time. So far I’d always been too busy with other things. The huge black letters read ‘I shall bathe in the blood of my enemies and feast on their fear.’
Martial words that crossed Growl’s entire broad chest. Why had he chosen them? To remind himself of who he was? Perhaps it had something to do with how he’d gotten his scar, but I still wasn’t sure how to breach the subject without making him close up completely. It was obvious that he didn’t like to talk about the topic or people would know the facts. Growl grabbed his pants from the floor and put them on. My own shirt was ripped and I wasn’t really in the mood to put on my tight-fitting jeans. “Do you have a shirt for me?”
