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His bloody smile was so sinister it sent my blood spiking, but not in fear. I was 100 percent turned on.

“Oh, little one, that was not the right move.”

He lunged, aiming for my legs, but the mattress threw him off, and I jumped off the bed, keeping it between us.

“Don’t run from me, Scar,” he yelled after me as I dashed into my en suite, with him only steps behind me. A hand wrapped around my ponytail, yanking on the hair until my head was dropped back against his shoulder. Warmth radiated from his chest, seeping into my back as his wet tongue ran along my collarbone before he sank his teeth into the crook of my neck.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” I taunted, rubbing my ass against his hard cock and trying to hold back a moan as he nuzzled my throat with his nose. “Didn’t want to fuck a Romano bitch,” I added through labored breathing.

Telling him I wasn’t a true Romano was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t get the words out for whatever reason. It pissed me off that he’d decided not to like me from the start. Like everyone else, I was a burden from the beginning. Never even given a chance.

No. I didn’t owe him anything.

“I never said I didn’t want you, Scar. I said I wasn’t going to stick my cock in you.” A chill ran down my spine as he breathed into my ear. His palm pressed against my clit through my pants. “How does my cum feel against your sloppy cunt?” he asked, letting out a low chuckle as I writhed against his hand, moaning and strung out on how deliciously dirty everything with him was.

Fuck.

“You like being chased? Does the idea of me roughly fucking you turn you on?”

I nodded. Need fogged my mind, and I pushed back against his hard cock, grinding as his free hand wrapped around my throat, pressing slightly against the sides, giving me a head rush.

“Want me to take care of this greedy pussy of yours, Scar? Huh? Do you want me to make you gush all over my fucking hand like my dirty little slut?” he growled in my ear, his rhythm picking up speed.

“Yes. Fuck, make me come, Caleb. Least you could fucking do,” I hissed out.

“Fuck,” he whispered as I writhed against his hand that he still had pressed to my clit from the outside of my joggers. “That’s my good little slut. Dry hump my fucking hand. Can you feel my cum rubbing into your pussy? I want you covered in my scent,” he said, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of my shoulders.

“My. Fucking. Wife.”

Panting breaths filled the room as he continued to whisper filthy things in my ear. I was too far gone to even register what he was saying. My orgasm built and built, pleasure finally erupting from my center when he pinched my nipple through my tank, sending an orgasm rushing through me. I cried out his name so loudly that my neighbors were bound to hear.

Heat swept across my skin, bringing with it a numb bliss.

Holy shit. I just humped his hand until I came.

My knees threatened to give out as my core clenched around nothing.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful when you come. Let this whole fucking building know who you belong to.” He flipped me around, pressing me against the wall and pushing his tongue between my lips, his cock straining against his pants.

City lights filtered in through the window above my clawfoot tub, bathing Caleb in enough light for me to make out his features. He was devastatingly beautiful, an incubus in human flesh.

He wrapped his hand around my ponytail as his tongue slid over mine in a messy tangle. Even though he’d just made me come, desire pulsed through me. My pussy was still wet and aching for him.

But when he pulled away, I saw it.

This moment had changed nothing. I wasn’t good enough for him to fuck.

What really pissed me off was that regardless of how I wanted to feel, the twinge of sadness and shame was still there.

“You’re still not going to fuck me, huh?” I couldn’t hold back the vulnerability in my tone.

He looked taken aback for a moment. Like he didn’t think I’d ask the question. His mouth opened and closed a few times, confusion painted on his face.

“Scar—” Whatever he was going to say was cut off by the ringing of his phone, and I used the distraction to slip under his arm and dash off to my closet. I needed space from him.

“You deal with your own blue balls,” I mumbled.

The call was the perfect opportunity for me to grab the bag with the packed hidden compartment and throw some other shit inside before he came in to play jailer.