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Drawing her eyebrows inward, she glares at me, trying to wrench my hand away. “Why?”
“You’re accusing me of... wanting to be with you because I think you’re easy, right? Do you honestly think I’d be here right now, with you, if I didn’t want to be?”
“I don’t know—”
Shifting so our heads are side by side, my lips graze her ear when I speak next. “Besides… are you really going to tell me that me calling you a whore doesn’t make you hot?”
“No, and it’s—”
“Maybe you just don’t understand the power of the word yet,” I breathe, my tongue darting out to trace the outside of her earlobe. A shiver runs across her body, making her spasm against me. “If you knew how good it could feel... me, deep inside your tight little cunt, barely holding back my release as I fuck you so hard you see stars... maybe with my hand around your throat, your makeup ruined from your tears and my spit... whispering in your ear about what a filthy little whore you are… and not just any whore, but my whore... then maybe you wouldn’t take such offense to the term.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I finish my sentence, both our breaths labored as they wrangle their way from our lungs. Fiona’s completely flushed when I rear my head back, and I press down hard when I run my thumb over her lips again, smearing the cherry red lipstick she wears like a fucking brand.
A brand.
Fuck, if she wouldn’t look good with my words burned into her skin.
I smile devilishly as I get to my feet, admiring the way she squirms away, clambering under the blanket and turning on her side away from me.
As if that’d be enough to hold me off. She scrubs furiously at her mouth, probably trying to erase any evidence of me touching her, and I chuckle to myself at the dramatic display of defiance.
Like I don’t know that if I shoved my hand between her thighs right now, I’d find her absolutely fucking soaked.
Heading toward the kitchen, I leave her in the house and slip out the back door, pulling my phone out as an unknown number flashes across the screen. Annoyed, I answer immediately, assuming it’s LeeAnn trying to trick me again, but I’m greeted by a male voice instead.
“Boyd Kelly?”
I hesitate, squinting against the setting sun as I scan the back yard. “Speaking.”
