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“Tell me what happened,” he repeated, this time pulling her chin between his fingers, refusing to let her go.
“What do you think happened?” she asked and kneed him in the groin. He groaned and let go, not expecting the hit. Putting a hand to the wall, he watched her walk away underneath his arm.
“We’re at war,” she said over her shoulder. “We’re enemies. I’m beginning to think I should just fuck off for good.”
Head down and palm flat, Anteros took one more breath before he stood up. Frankie’s breathing was rocky when he pulled her into his chest, her muscles coiled. It was like she wanted to run, yet as Anteros drew her deeper into his embrace, even though her nails dug into his wrist, she didn’t attempt to move.
“You don’t taste like my enemy,” he rumbled, moving Frankie’s hair from one shoulder to the other while placing his lips on the soft skin at the curve of her neck. Her head fell back, hair satin on his skin. “You taste like a tease of what I’ll find between your thighs.” He ghosted a hand there and she sighed, the delicious sound curling in his chest.
“Please,” she whispered, “let me come with you.”
“I can’t take you with me,” he said, dragging her earlobe with his teeth. “But I can leave me with you.”
Frankie spun around, weaving her arms around Anteros’s neck. She crushed her lips against his, bodies melding together like a perfect fucking fit. Anteros gripped her waist, slid his hands up her back, momentarily lost in the taste of her, the feel of her.
“Fuck, I want to be inside you,” he said against her lips when they broke for air—but Anteros had plans for Frankie. That night, he had plans. He’d been thinking about it since she’d carved him, had started planning it when he’d discovered the church. Reluctantly, Anteros untangled Frankie from him and went to get the supplies he’d hid in the church a few days before.
“I thought you wanted to be inside me?” Her voice drifted over his shoulder, lilting with a need she tried to hide, and a ghost of a smile came to his face. He went to the back room where he’d placed the items he needed. Hidden in his boot was the main event, but he’d stuffed the church with a few other items too large to carry in his shoe. He returned with a blanket and laid the soft, plaid fleece on the floor. Frankie’s eyes widened with anticipation.
“That sounds like a request,” he said then grabbed Frankie’s wrist and pulled her down. She fell underneath him with a squeal, smile bright.
Her pajamas were nothing like she’d worn when she was with him—just satin pants and a camisole—but somehow seeing Frankie like this, just herself, drove him into a state of mad lust. Perky, irritatingly tempting pink circles were visible beneath the thin fabric of her top, and Anteros lightly brushed the back of his hand over them. Frankie’s breath caught, nipples hardening.
Eyes locked, he gripped the waistband of her pajamas, pulling the fabric past her thighs until he could drag it from her ankles. He wanted her naked—he always wanted her naked. Anteros tossed the pajamas and her panties to the floor, eyes flicking briefly to the underwear. He’d be keeping those.
He swiftly kissed inside her knee and was getting ready to stand when her breath stuttered. He lived for that sound, for the way her lungs seized when he touched her. No matter how much darkness Frankie unearthed, with him she still got nervous.
Her eyes were stuck on his and, as if sensing the battle inside him, her legs fell open even more. Anteros gripped her knees, fighting the urge to devour her, to push her knees completely apart and dive into her pussy. He had a fucking plan. With a sound low in his throat, he stood up. Frankie’s eyes followed his the entire way up.
Anteros pulled his tank over his head then paused, shirt in fist, as Frankie got to her elbows. He was stuck on the little things she didn’t even know she was doing—legs falling open slightly, eyes widening, lip pulling between her teeth. When he finally dropped his shirt, her eyes landed on the F.
“Admiring your handiwork?” He fell to the blanket and, in lieu of response, Frankie caressed the scarred letter. Their eyes locked, the air stilled.
When Anteros spoke, his voice was hoarse, rocky. “Do you remember what you called me that day?”
She slyly lifted one cheek. “Maybe.”
“You played dirty, mio cuore.” Anteros pushed her hard back down onto the blanket.
She looked sideways, eyelashes shadowing her gaze. “I only called you Boss.” Blue eyes flashed back to his and he could see the devilish glint. She knew exactly what she’d done.
“You didn’t mean it then.” He lowered so their chests were just inches apart, brushing fingers along her inner thighs. Her eyes grew wide. “You’re going to mean it now,” he said, ending on a growl.
“Did I hurt the big, b
ad Beast’s feelings?” she asked, breathless but with a teasing grin on her lips.
“No,” Anteros responded, plunging a finger into her at the challenge and pinning her flat. She gasped, the grin falling from her face in a sigh. Fuck, she was so wet. Her back arched and her hips lifted. Frankie was like a dancer following the music the way she always moved for his touch. Anteros could have watched her for hours, but that wasn’t part of his plan.
Though it killed him to do it, he removed the finger and sat up. She let out a small, grieved moan, and he knew he was winning.
“You didn’t hurt me, Frankie,” he clarified. “But the next time you call me Boss, it won’t be to trick me. The next time you call me Boss, it will because you’re begging your master to fuck you.” He reached into his boot for the hidden item: a knife—the knife.
Frankie’s breath pulled but she didn’t resist when Anteros put the blade to her top, where the edges were scalloped with lace. Her eyes grew wider as he lowered himself onto her, letting her feel how achingly hard she made him. Her lips parted and she licked the bottom one.
“You—” she stuttered, trying to get control of her breathing. “You wish. You’ll never be my master…” she finished, but her eyes were stuck on the knife.
“You’re a bad liar,” he said, words steam on her neck. He dragged the knife down her top and the fabric stretched and tore around the steel, ripping through the middle until the thin material butterflied. Frankie wrapped her arms around his shoulders, sliding her hands up to his neck then tangling them in his hair. She arched, trying to kiss him. With his free hand, Anteros tore her hands away.
