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His lips came down on mine, and my fingers grabbed his shoulders—to push him away, and then I stayed instead.
His tongue lapped against my lips, rough and devouring, and I opened to him. I considered biting down on his tongue as it invaded my mouth, even as my hips rocked forward against his. My need met the rough jeans covering his thighs, and his hands slid up my hips, gliding in the moisture from the shower. His hands felt hot as brands against my skin, as if he were fevered.
He lifted me easily onto the sink. I teetered on the countertop, the edge biting into my ass. I twined my legs around his waist, drawing him close to me. He buried his face in my shoulder, his lips caressing, sucking, biting. Raw urgency built between my thighs.
He raised his head and pressed a tender kiss to the corner of my mouth. His eyes had softened, and he looked at me with what seemed like genuine warmth and affection. It made me feel weak for him, and I couldn’t stand that. Besides, Stellan’s eyes were a lie. His lips were a lie. The truth was a car trunk and a knife’s blade. I could never forget he was a threat to me.
I pushed him away. “I don’t want your kisses. I just want your dick.”
Just because we couldn’t trust each other didn’t mean we couldn’t use each other.
He took a step back, my legs falling around his hips, and disappointment rocked through my body. Had I hurt his feelings too much for sex?
He slowly pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing every hard-angled ab, the powerful planes of his chest, his broad shoulders. He unclipped his holster from the small of his back and laid it carefully on the counter. My gaze flickered to the discarded weapon. He’d caught me without my knives.
Then his hands went to his belt, unbuckling it and easing his jeans down, revealing his taut lower abs and the first inch of his shaved package.
He could’ve just freed his cock, but he knew I liked seeing every bit of him. He was gorgeous. Too bad all that sexy was wrapped around all his crazy.
And maybe he knew I wanted him to be as vulnerable as I was.
“I don’t think you’re ready for my dick,” he said, grabbing my thighs and spreading them without preamble.
He knelt, then leaned forward and licked my pussy, his tongue gliding through my folds. I rocked back on my ass so he could manhandle my thighs. He touched me as if I belonged to him–at least for the moment–exposing me and eating me out with passion. Every lap of his tongue felt a fresh surge of desire through my thighs.
I groaned, my fingers gliding through his hair. I was on the verge of cumming, my thighs beginning to shake, when he straightened. Without preamble, he flicked the tip of his cock against my wet core, then pushed inside. He slammed into me over and over, hard, rolling his hips at the end in a way that sent a warm surge to my very center. He fucked me mercilessly, hard and relentless, and it would’ve hurt except for the way he hit my g-spot, sending sparks flying around my vision.
I moaned, and his body responded, moving faster. He stared into my face with those eyes I couldn’t read, as if he would destroy me–I didn’t doubt that–and I would’ve closed my eyes, except I didn’t dare trust him. So the two of us stared into each other’s eyes as he hit my core, as my legs shook, as I squeezed his cock in the throes of my orgasm. He spurted inside me, filling me. For a second, he looked… happy. Satisfied.
Then he abruptly pulled away, dropping my legs. I barely managed to catch myself, rocking on the edge of the counter.
“You don’t want to kiss me?” he demanded. His face seemed to war with itself, then he abruptly grabbed my chin. He tilted my face up to his, and his lips pressed mine in a hot, conquering kiss.
He kissed me like he needed me, his lips filled with need. And I couldn’t resist kissing him back.
I was breathless when he released me, his expression more satisfied than ever. “Bullshit.”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, my lips still tingling from the power of that kiss. My mouth felt as tender as my pussy.
“Why do you kiss me like that when you hate me?” I demanded.
“You hate me more,” Stellan said. “And you still kiss me.”
“I have every reason to hate you,” I called after him as he walked away.
But I wasn’t sure the two of us ever told the truth to each other.
Chapter8
The Suitor
Istood at the back of the house, looking up at the bathroom window’s golden glow. The neighborhood was quiet in the morning; except for the two houses side-by-side, the trees around the big old homes provided an abundance of privacy. Next door’s driveway wrapped around the house to the garage, which had been very useful, once upon a time, when bodies needed to be removed from the house.
Only ghosts had lived in both these houses for a while. The ghost of a girl, and the ghost of a mother.
Then Delilah moved across the room, and I gasped. She was still so beautiful. So mine. Her long hair was a shimmering platinum blond now instead of the glossy brunette that had suited her far better. Her breasts were large and pert, with pink nipples. She’d filled out from her teenage years. I’d liked her better a little thinner, a little smaller. I’d have to see that she ate less. But still… she was beautiful, and I stroked my hand over my cock. As if the memories from these houses weren’t enough to make me hard already. All the pain and screaming.
She frowned, speaking to someone, and my hand stilled. She was talking to someone while she was naked like that, the slut?
