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Shoving the plates to the floor, I spun and grabbed hold of her arms. She gasped, clearly surprised. I sat her on the edge of the table and caged her in on either side. She stared up at me, her chocolate eyes wide, her perfect pink lips slightly parted.
She was supposed to have a bullet in her head. I was going to snap her neck. I wanted to cut her heart out and send it to her father with a pretty little bow around it. She wasn’t supposed to get under my skin like infectious cancer and bleed into my thoughts.
“Why aren’t you fighting me anymore? Why are you so calm?” I kept my voice level, but even I could hear the harshness in it.
Half of me wanted to spill my fucking guts, tell her everything I’d ever done and everything I was about to put her through. Killing my father was just the tip of the iceberg. If she truly knew the man I was, she wouldn’t look at me the way she did, and for once, I was a coward, because I refused to tell her. One day I would, but not today.
“I don’t want to fight you. Is that what you want? Me to fight you?” She looked at me questioningly. If I said yes, I knew she would.
“Why?” Of all the things running through my head, that’s the only question I could ask her.
“I like you. I’ve always liked you. And I know you’re a bit different, but so am I. You don’t think I’m weird, and that makes me happy.” Her honest words tumbled from her mouth and caught me off guard.
“I choked you to get you here, Willow..”
Pausing to get myself under control, I ran a hand down my face. She cast her gaze downward, suddenly unable to look me in the eyes.
“I liked it,” she mumbled into her chest. My dick turned to a slab of granite.
“I want to hurt you, Willow. Make you cry, and hear you beg.”
“So, do it.” She lifted her head and challenged me.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
My emotions were spiraling out of control.
I had nothing to bargain with except myself. I had myself. As soon as the words “Do it,” left my lips, Pierce’s mouth hit mine, hard. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and his hands went to my thighs.
My mouth opened for him, happily letting his tongue inside to meet my own. All too soon, he broke away from me.
He pulled me by the legs so my ass was right on the edge of his table.
“I should have done this the first night you were here,” he murmured, kissing up my bare leg to my right thigh. Slowly, he began to trace over my scars with the tip of his tongue, moving closer and closer to my pussy.
I groaned, taking hold of his shoulders, spreading my legs even more for him.
His lips ghosted over my thong, his warm breath on my center, and then his mouth was moving up my other leg, doing a repeat. His tongue like a paintbrush, my scars the canvas.
My body was my own worst enemy. It came alive for him. He followed the ugly rugged pattern imprinted on my skin with slow, smooth strokes. This time, he moved his lips to the outside of my thigh.
Taking hold of my thong with his teeth, he began to remove it, dragging it down my legs without lifting a finger.
“Take your shirt off,” he instructed me, discarding his own clothes. I quickly shoved the shirt over my head and sat watching him, naked. I drank in the masterpiece that emerged from beneath his suit. He had to have a vigorous workout routine; his body was mouth watering. The muscles, his abs, even the fucking crimson dragon tattoo on his back.
“No.” I stopped him from going back to his knees once he was all the way nude. Fuck foreplay, I wanted him inside of me. I tried to pull him toward me, but he just pushed my hands away.
“Not yet, Rebel. I wanna play.” He moved down and put his mouth where it always seemed to be, pushing two fingers into me at the same time. He took his time, driving me insane with need.
“Pierce…please,” I begged, pulling on his hair.
“Please, what?” He rolled my clit with his tongue, eliciting another soft moan from my mouth.
“Get up and fuck me.”
Pierce chuckled, his warm breath blowing onto my pussy. He rose up like the Sex God he was and positioned me how he wanted, legs were bent, my feet balanced on the edge of the glass table. It reminded me of origami. He ran the head of his cock up and down my lips, smearing his precum onto my labia.
“Mmm, don’t make me beg.” I held his arms and pleaded.
