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“Wh—what?” She flinches around the words, her shoulders falling and her eyes welling with unshed tears. Fuck. “I thought…”
“Get out,” I say, shaking my head. She doesn’t hesitate, crawling off my bed and making her way to the door. I fall down onto the mattress, my hand in my hair and my thoughts running fucking rampant. I feel feral. Like a caged fucking beast being taunted with something, anything, maybe even the one thing it has always wanted but could never have.
“Brantley,” she says gently, and I feel that anger simmer as guilt begins to wash in.
Flexing my neck to the side, I stand to my feet and take the steps needed to reach her. She cowers the closer I get, the confusion evident, sprawled out over her features. I don’t blame her. I’m being inconsistent. The battle I’m fighting is rearing its ugly head and trying to expose itself.
She opens the door softly, but I bring my hand up and slam it closed. She turns, resting her back against it while tucking her hands behind herself.
“I thought you said get out…” she murmurs, and even as the words leave her and penetrate the distance between us, I wave them off.
“Yeah?” I bring my other hand up to the other side of her head. “I also said that once I put my mouth on you, that you’re fucked.” I keep my eyes on her. I want to test the boundaries I think she has and see how far she will go. “Remove your shorts.”
With her iceberg eyes on mine, she hooks her thumbs beneath the waistband of her shorts, pushing them down. I crack, tilting my head downward to watch as the silk gathers around her feet in a pool of innocence. Innocence lost is a sin gained.
My lips curve in a smirk as I slowly trail my eyes up her body, past her breasts and back to her eyes. I push one hand off the door and bring my fingers beneath her chin. She’s not like the others. She will never, ever be like anything or anyone I would have touched—ever. Which makes the touching all the more illicit. “Show me what you do when you’re alone.”
“What?” Her cheeks glow with a bite of pink, but I know she knows what I’m asking.
My breathing is shallow, my chest rising and falling as she slowly brings her hand around to her front. I push off of the door, taking two steps away from her. “Take off your shirt, too.”
Before her fingers find her middle, she wraps them around the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head, her hair cascading down her back slowly, as she leans back against my door.
I bite down on my cheek to stop from groaning out loud, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. I fist the sheets in my hand as her chest swells and deflates with each breath she takes. “What do you want me to do?”
I take a beat. One. Two. Three. Fucking pull your shit together, Brantley. Spreading my legs wide, I lean my head against the side of one of the pillars to my bed. “I think you know what I want you to do.”
She leans against the door lazily, unaffected by my presence, as if she’s been naked around me hundreds of times. She exudes confidence, and I inhale every fucking bit of it. Her body is crafted from a goddess, shaped with a scalpel and kissed by angels. Nothing but the glint of her million-dollar diamond necklace touches her skin, and I have to fight with every-fucking-thing inside of me to not move across the room and suck on every bit of her exposed skin.
Her fingers move to her front. I’m not at all surprised that she shaves. There’s not one speck of a flaw on her body, so clean. Too clean. I need to rub my filth over her and fuck her until she bleeds.
I groan at the thought, my eyes rolling back as I sit up slightly to adjust my raging fucking cock from splitting open the seams to my jeans. I pull them down a little, to hang just above where my pelvic dips, before going back to distracting myself. Squeezing the sheets just might save her life.
A whimper leaves her mouth as her back arches off the door. Her fingers are over her pussy, her thumb rubbing slow little circles over her clit as her other fingers pinch her nipples.
“Fuck this.”
I push off the bed and move back to the front of her, and when she opens her eyes, I’m slightly surprised by the burning fire that exposes itself. Not in a way that is desperate, but more controlled. Like a purring cat, knowing she’s going to get her stroke. I grab the same hand she’s rubbing herself with and bring it to my lips. Dragging it between my teeth, I lick her taste off her fingers and bite down on the tip of her index finger.
