Then when we were finally entangled and sweaty in the closet, I would want too much. My need to devour him and be devoured in every way unsettled him. Hunter would tell me I was being off-putting, or ruining the moment when I asked him to talk dirty to me or use his mouth on my most needy parts.
“I was out of line with him a lot. He was just trying to protect me, and I kept wanting more. He said I needed to learn to control myself. If I did, maybe we could have . . .” Made it? No. I still would have flunked out, a magic dud. And Hunter is too powerful to leave magic behind. He was meant for powerful, important things. And I’m making a nice little strange life for myself.
Brexley stills. He doesn’t even seem to breathe.
Then he takes off walking again. No, he stalks forward, tension and anger lining his shoulders.
It takes a couple skipping steps to catch up to him. I swallow hard over the lump of shame in my throat.
Why did I just admit that? I should keep my dumb mouth shut.
We walk another block in silence as I stew in my shame. I’ve never before explained my pseudo relationship with Hunter. Not even with Goldie or Cinder. Around them, I became this new, empowered female. Keeping my dark past hidden away helped me move on.
“For fuck’s sake,” Brexley mutters after a span of silence.
Then a hand grasps my arm and tugs me off the sidewalk, into an alleyway. My coat protects me from the power of his touch, but my insides still purr at the pressure. Purple light splashes the streets from a nearby neon sign. Ozone thickens in the air. It’s going to rain soon.
Brexley has me up against a wall, his ice-blue eyes glinting with power, a half snarl on his face.
“Let me get this straight, little Red. This sonofabitch would use you for pleasure, but then judge you for how you wanted it, while also keeping you hidden like you're something to be ashamed of?”
The urge to defend Hunter swells up with ferocity. “If anything, I used him. He’s bound to protect my family, which put me as the one in power. Then I also get into these . . . moods, and I’d practically attack him. He was probably just being nice all along and I didn’t read the signals.” Brexley had seen it. For crying out loud, I slapped him and responded to the filthiest of suggestions laced with violence.
Brexley’s eyes flash again as he scoffs. “You can’t make that guy do anything he doesn’t want to.”
“You just met him. How the hell would you know?”
Brexley’s eyeroll turns my blood to bubbling lava. “I know exactly what he’s about,” he goes on. “And you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
I sputter, unable to voice all the ways he’s wrong. “I made him uncomfortable. I should have taken the hint.”
“What did you ask him to do anyways?” The ferocity dims and something else sparks in his eye. Curiosity and arousal?
Uh oh. My senses snap on full alert. I’m on thin ice here.
“I can be a lot. And he has more traditional tastes.”
Brexley leans a hand on the wall next to my head. Even under his sweater, his bicep flexes, sending a fluttering through my stomach. I staunchly resolve to ignore it. But then his eyes hotly travel up and down my body.
I try to keep my back straight and exude confidence, but inside I’m a mess.
Don’t touch me, for faefucks sake, do not touch me again,one part of my brain screams.
The other side is panting, begging for him to do it. Because if he touches me right now, I’ll crack in half and lose all sanity. Even the shame of all those times I went out of my mind with desire for Hunter won’t stop me from jumping Brexley if he so much as brushes a finger against my hair.
“So the boy is vanilla as fuck then,” Brexley says. “What did you ask for that he wasn’t willing to give?” His voice drops to a gravelly tone that curls in my most intimate parts. “Did you ask him to say dirty filthy things to you?” Then he used a mocking deep voice, “that’s inappropriate Red, I don’t use words like that.”
Cold shock hits me. That’s almost verbatim what Hunter would say.
The other arm comes up, and I try to ignore the second flexing bicep as his spicy, masculine scent surrounds me. His voice drops further. My eyes automatically flutter closed.
“Did you ask him to lick you where you need it most? I’m sure the pretty boy can’t be bothered. He wouldn’t know how to properly lick the cream off a cone if it was his favorite flavor and it made him explode in his pants.”
A violent shiver runs through my body. Heat and lust spiral through me. Brexley knows exactly how to lick a girl, and that fact mutes my anger.
Please, no.
Please, yes.
