Page 2 of Breathe Like Hell

My first real taste of low-neon air.

Dizziness surging in my brain.

And him.

I snaked one hand around to the back of his head, fingers threading tightly through his blond hair. Micah sharply sank his teeth into my lower lip and I tasted the blood on my tongue, the slightly metallic hint of ichor.

Glass from the broken photo frame was still embedded in my heel, my blood marking Micah’s carpet and hardwood, my pain staining his new world. I kissed him more viciously.

Micah brought the full length of our bodies together, pressing hot against me from heaving chest to seizing abdomen to aching hips…

I suppressed a groan, thighs tensing.

My anger at him—my rage—fueled me, fueled my need to thrust and fuck and come, to do it all with the person who’d wrecked me in the first place. And I hated it. Hated how fucking badly I wanted this, how goddamn incapable I was of resisting him.

But hatred couldn’t make me stop. Couldn’t make me slow down.

Kill.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Micah ground the ridge of his erection against mine. Deliberately. And the rest of my sanity funneled away into pitch-black desire. Pure, physical, sexual need shredded any semblance of restraint I’d ever hoped to hold against him.

Pure aggression. Pent-up lust that I hadn’t had an outlet for in years.

I raked my hands down his sides, then under his shirt on his back, fingers clenching the fabric as I tore it clean in half. Shredded cotton fell to the ground and then I was taking my own shirt off, barely able to stop kissing him long enough to yank it over my head.

Somehow, knowing he’d fucked Dakota only made me need him worse. Thinking about all the tight places his cock had been recently was screwing up my brain.

In her wet little pussy, shoved down her throat, hard under her thigh while she kissed him all sloppy and pathetic.

And now, grinding against mine…

I am losing my mind.

A low noise rumbled in his chest, like a growl. Our bodies writhed together, warm skin on warm skin, sweat on sweat, hateful mouth on hateful mouth.

I was panting, tongue sliding along Micah’s, my cock throbbing with the pressure. He moved, rolling his hips against mine, hard dick grinding into my own, hand collaring the front of my throat, fingers cutting off the blood flow to my brain.

“I fucking hate you,” I gritted out as he dragged his open mouth over my jaw.

“And I don’t fucking care,” he said in my ear, holding me pinned against the wall. “The feeling is mutual.”

My fingers scraped up the back of his neck, yanking his head back again by his hair and I dove forward towards his exposed throat. Flattening my tongue against his hot skin, I licked a line up his throat, over his strong pulse, over his Adam’s apple, then clamped down with my teeth.

His grip tightened on my neck and I bit him harder, tongue flicking against his skin.

“Look at me,” Micah growled, cutting off all my air with his palm on my throat and slamming me back.

My head snapped up, but there wasn’t a second to breathe before he was on me. We crashed together with the specific bruised shade of violence I’d missed most from him. Tongues, teeth, lips, breath.

Fucking insatiable.

I angled my head, deepening the kiss as I reached down between us to grab Micah’s bulge, cupping him firmly, wrapping my fingers around him through his shorts as best as I could. His grip tightened on my throat, his hips pushing into my touch, his swollen cock hard against my palm. He didn’t stop me. Didn’t even try.

“You—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Micah cut me off, his free hand traveling towards my waistband, wedged between our bodies. A knot of heat tightened low in my stomach, muscles flexing where he touched me. Yeah, we’re doing this.