Page 37 of A New Days Don

“Come here,” I place the plates down on the grey marble, tracking her as she does exactly as she is told. Such a good listener.

As she walks into the lit living room, she is on full display. Underneath the fine cotton of the black shirt, I can make out the gentle curve of her breasts and her soft nipples pressing against the fabric. I trail my eyes down her waist to her hips, though the shirt otherwise swallows her whole, the barest hint of her round ass appears with each step across the living room.

When she’s at the edge of the open concept kitchen, she tilts her head while her hands idly play with the hem of the shirt she’s wearing. Her blue eyes dart all over my face, jaw, and chest, landing on the bit of skin visible from the few buttons I undid at the club.

“I didn’t want to put my old clothes on after getting clean,” Mila explains, as if she needs an explanation for waltzing around looking so tantalizing in my clothes.

Fucking tease me all day and night, beautiful, and it’ll still never be enough.

My fingers twitch. My body is on fire with need. I slowly approach Mila with slow, calculated steps, giving her the chance to slip away—something every fibre of my being is screaming at me not to do. Despite the flash of nervousness across her features, she doesn’t shift or move away, so I cage her in between the kitchen countertop and my body. I place my hands on either side of her, leaning down so we are only a whisper’s distance away from each other.

Her stormy scent is tainted with my own from the body wash she must have gotten into, and the mixture sends my internal beast wild. Pleasure knots and coils and thrums hard against me.

“I don’t fucking care. Wear my clothes every day if you want.” My voice is thick with raw arousal. She shivers against me, her eyes becoming hooded as they flicker between mine. Her hands awkwardly grip each other between us, wringing and twitching with her own building tension and nerves.

My gaze flicks up to her dainty lips as her pink tongue juts out to coat them with a thin layer of glistening saliva. Taunting the last strand holding me back from her.

This, her and I, would never work. Not with her job in law enforcement and my career in less than legal manipulation and organization. She wouldn’t want this or me if she knew. But she’s my enigma. An obsession that quickly seeded and overtook my every thought without any rhyme or reason. Our pieces may not fit together, but I will bend and break her until they do. Until she is just as lost in the temptation and this lucid nightmare, that despite my poor attempts at fighting, I have found myself drowning in with her. For the first time in my life, I want to lose it.

And right now, I have her in my condo, in my shirt, looking up at me with all the trust in the world in those terrified blue eyes, and tipping over the edge of losing all control in my carefully curated life is imminent.

“I’m going to kiss you, now.” I murmur, and Mila releases a shaky breath, her pupils dilating, but that fear still stirring behind her desire, “Say no, push me away, shake your head. Anything, pretty girl.”

I beg her to stop me, to stop this, to stop us, but I don’t think she could even if she wanted to. This draw I feel for her, she clearly feels this thing between us as strongly as I do. The sudden realization leaves me all but trembling for her. If she manages to say no, I may just get on my knees and beg her for even an ounce of what she gave me while she pretended to be mine downtown.

Several seconds pass as I wait for her to make some kind of move, even a micromovement to tell me to go away. To pull me back off the edge of losing my control, but she doesn’t.

She just fucking stares at me with uncertainty and trust and–

I.

Fucking.

Break.

The second I feel her soft lips on mine, it's like I have reached Zion. Her little gasp makes my mind spin with hunger and need while tentative movements keep me tethered to this plane of existence, coaxing and leading her through the movements.

I wrap her damp hair around my fist, craning her neck back so I can have better access to the lips that are guiding my own ascension. Her body trembles under me, her still knotted hands tensing as they try to hide the effects this is having on her.

My tongue meets her lips, skating across her lower lip, begging her to open her beautiful mouth.

“Open,” My voice is rough, gravelly. Her dark brows furrow, but she doesn’t question my intentions. I drink up the little drop of trust she gives me as her mouth begins to part slowly, giving me a glimpse of white teeth and pink tongue.

“Good girl,” I growl.

Dipping my tongue into her mouth, her taste floods my taste buds, and she lets out the sweetest little hum. My cock throbs against the zipper of my pants. Pleasure and my arousal crash through me like a tidal wave, begging for release. My hips roll out of their own volition, seeking her warmth.

Instead of joining me in pleasure, Mila tenses under me, her lips halting their movements, and when I open my eyes, hers are staring back wide with desire and panic warring against each other.

The reaction to kissing is unlike one I have seen before. I am not proud to recount how many women I have kissed and fucked over the last twenty-some years since my first kiss, but panic isn’t typically among the reactions. It drags me out of my arousal faster than any bucket of ice water could. If that kiss is all she wants, then that kiss will be all we do.

I pull myself away, giving her space, enjoying her ragged breathing, swollen pouty lips, and tussled hair. I drop my hand from her hair, brushing the backs of my knuckles along her jawline before gripping her chin.

“Eyes on me,” I demand, and she nods, blue eyes flicking over to mine, “Your lips are delicious, sweet girl. I think I’ve become addicted to your kisses.”

Her cheeks flush bashfully, “I-I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither was I,” I wink, and she melts against the counter, her eyes darting back to my lips for a split second, becoming dark with her own arousal. My cock throbs against my zipper, the metal biting through the thin layer of my underwear at the sensitive underside. The small pinch of pain keeps me grounded and stops the feral beast inside of me from pushing her too far.