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“I don’t know,” she said. “It was what was laid out today.” He groaned. There must have been a mix-up with the stylist, but for once he didn’t care. The mistake was fantastic.
Frankie was in his shirt and all she wore underneath were tight gray leggings.
“It’s a bit odd.” She fell back on her heels with a sigh. “But I’ve stopped questioning it. I assume they’re wearing this stupid sh—stuff in Paris or something?” Frankie looked up at Anteros, eyes big and bright. The shirt she wore—his shirt—was unbuttoned down to her collarbone. It was so much larger than her that it hung off her shoulder
With a growl he gripped her palm, pulling her up until she was pressed against him. “This is my shirt.”
She looked down again and laughed. “Duh…” Trailing off, her gaze traveled back to his. Her eyes widened as if taking him in for the first time. Her face twisted in fear, afraid the harsh fury clouding him was directed at her. She wiggled as if she could escape. Anteros grasped her harder, anchoring her against him.
He found he wasn’t so angry anymore.
Frankie had twisted his rage into burning lust.
“It’s not my fault,” Frankie began hastily. “I didn’t go into your closet. This was on my bed. I didn’t do anyth—”
Anteros silenced her with a kiss.
Anteros broke the kiss and Frankie looked up at him, her face a mix of confusion and lust. He wasn’t done with her, though. His blood felt boiled, it was as if he was jonesing for her. Demanding Frankie’s gaze, demanding her stare, Anteros stuck his hand into her leggings. Her lids widened then dropped to half-mast. She was hot and wet. He slid his palm against her then removed his hand, placing his fingers against his lips. He groaned as he licked the taste from them.
She was so fucking good.
“How I’ve still yet to taste you from the source…” Anteros trailed off, cupping her face with both of his hands and plunging his tongue into her mouth so she could taste the little bit of her on his tongue. Her body uncoiled, eventually slackening against him and his tongue, and she groaned into his mouth.
Anteros kissed her cheek, her ear, down her jaw, trailing the column of her neck to the hollow of her throat and along the wings of her collarbone. He was overcome, needing to taste every part of her within seconds. Falling to his knees, he lifted up the shirt to see her slightly rounded tummy. Frankie gripped his shoulders as if trying to remain steady. He kissed the honey-colored flesh below her belly button and tugged at the tight fabric of her leggings, lowering them past her round ass.
He was savage in his need to taste her, blinded with red-hot lust. All he could think about was getting the fucking fabric off her body, his flesh to her flesh.
“Wait!” Anteros looked up at the beseeching tone in Frankie’s voice. “I just…never mind.” She looked away, resigned. Pausing, he frowned. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he’d revealed her father’s betrayal. She was probably mourning, either the father she’d thought she had, or a life she could have had, but she knew the rules: if she stayed, he owned her. Yet something inside of him told him to stop. He held her ass and, with a groan, leaned his head against her thigh.
“Tell me to stop and I will, mio cuore.” The words sounded odd coming from his mouth. It was not his usual cadence; it was soothing and caressing, as if talking to a frightened doe. Frankie frowned at him anyway, disbelief etched into every line in her face.
Anteros let his grip fall from her ass slowly and stood up. Her pants were nearly past her thighs, shirt up to her chest. Her hair was a mess, her face flushed in that delicious ruby glow. Every part of him screamed to take her, to make her his. Still, he couldn’t, not until she gave him the okay. Her lips were pulled as if holding in words. With a frustrated groan, Anteros turned to leave the library. He was nearly out the door when—
“Wait,” Frankie's throaty whisper called to him. He turned back to see she was chewing on her lower lip, crystal gaze flickering from him to the fire. Anteros raised a brow. “Don’t go,” she said, eyes locking with his at last. Before she could change her mind, Anteros closed the short distance between them. He cupped her by the ass and waist, placing her on the floor.
He ripped her pants off the rest of the way and spread her legs with his shoulders. The way Frankie wrapped her legs around him and speared her hands into his hair showed she had no intention of stopping. Good, Anteros thought. There was no way he could stop now. Lust had taken control.
When he saw her he hissed. He’d seen her bare, seen her up close, even, but now he was so close he could nearly taste her. The fire made her glow. Frankie was so wet, the juices dripped down her and sparkled like diamonds. With his fingers he gently opened her, spreading her for his tongue. Frankie gasped when he tasted her, Anteros groaned as she hit the back of his throat. So fucking delicious, so utterly Frankie. He could stay there for hours, getting high on her.
He gripped her thighs, needing more of her. She was so fucking wet, she dripped past his lips and down his jaw. Anteros thought he might drown in it, in her. Frankie’s fingers tugged at his hair, tight and hard, pulling at the roots in a painful way. It was a good pain, a pain that let him know how close to madness he was driving her.
In sync with the melody of her pants and moans, he flattened his tongue against her slit in one long lick that ended against her clit, where he sucked her long, slow, and hard. Her back arched and her toes turned to points against the flesh of his back. Against his mouth he felt her throb and pulse as she cam
e undone.
“Oh God,” she gasped. “Oh I’m…I’m…” Her words trailed off into a long, melodic moan. He looked up, watching her face. Her jaw slackened, her eyes rolled back and she lolled her head to the side, looking utterly spent. For a moment, she lost herself. Anteros latched onto that moment like a bee to honey, because seconds later awareness returned. She realized what she’d just done, how much she’d given away, and she was untangling herself from him, pulling his shirt down, looking for her pants.
Anteros slid up like a panther, taking her into his arms. He didn’t care that she’d pulled away. Didn’t care that she was stiff and rigid against him. Didn’t care that she covered her body again.
He’d just had a glimpse of her naked soul.
Fifteen
This must be a fantasy, or at least my brain has finally broken under the torment and I’ve gone insane.
What he just did to my body, it was—Jesus. For a moment my soul fractured. That thing I’d been safeguarding against fucking happened. I knew the Beast could make me orgasm, that wasn’t a shock—he’d basically been doing it since day one. I tried to fight it but, I mean, there was little I could do about it since one, he apparently knew his way around the female form and two, he had more sex toys than Doc Johnson.
But coming?
