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She released my tie and wrapped her arm around me, pulling me against her. “I did,” she agreed and dipped her head to my ear. “I’d rather kiss you,” she whispered and pulled back, her eyes assessing my reaction.
Her hold and words made me hot, and the anger bubbling in my stomach drove me. I reached up and took hold of her face pulling her down to me and crashing my lips against hers.
I would kiss her until she was drowning in me.
I would kiss her until she forgot all about that pompous lord.
I would kiss her better.
I deepened the kiss, pushing myself flush against her and was rewarded with a deep feral growl. She bent down, grabbing the back of my thighs, and lifted me. I wrapped my legs tight around her as she carried me and sat on the couch.
I’d never kissed her with so much force. I’d never been such an inexplicable mixture of hurt, angry, and craving. I’d never wanted or needed to show her that she was mine. And she never truly let me lead before.
I wanted to be the one consuming her.
I wanted her to belong to me, if only for one kiss.
I wanted her to want me as desperately as I wanted her.
I kissed her until I became dizzy. Until the need for air forced me to stop. Her silver eyes glowed brightly as I ran my thumb along her swollen bottom lip. And as I searched her eyes, I thought I saw more than simple desire staring back at me.
“Who kissed you better?” I asked her, unable to control the snarkiness in my tone.
She grinned wide, her eyes flashing brighter.
“You have no idea what you do to me. You’re driving me wild. I’m losing myself,” she told me and laughed in a way that almost seemed sad. “You kiss better,” she continued as she fisted my hair and pulled me back to her lips.
We kissed heatedly. It was a sort of dance, the Princess allowing me to take control before reclaiming her dominance, over and over. Every part of me ached for her. My skin burned at her slightest touch.
She pulled away growling angrily.
“If that boy wants to give you his heart, I’ll tear open his chest,” she tore my shirt open, “rip out his heart and gift it to you,” she told me.
Her hands ghosted over the skin of my abdomen and the sides of my breasts.
She moved to my neck, kissing and licking my sensitive skin and allowing me to catch my breath.
“I’ll send him back to his House one body part at a time,” she continued and bit my neck harshly.
I was far from in control then. The animalistic rumbling of her chest concerned me as much as it heated and spurred my passion. Was she truly in control of herself? I didn’t think she’d harm me, not purposefully, but there was something off with her.
“Ma’am, wait, please,” I said as she finished tearing my ruined shirt from my body and dug her fingers cruelly into my sides.
Her head whipped up from my abused neck, glowing silver meeting mine fiercely.
“What?” she hissed.
“Are you - are you okay? You wouldn’t really hurt him?” I managed to speak.
“Wouldn’t I? I should. I should destroy that which would try to take what’s mine. What else do you expect from a heartless monster?” she asked me lowly, her eyes never leaving mine.
I deflated immediately, all heat leaving my body; I was cold. Did she think I thought that she was heartless, that she was a monster?
“You’re not heartless. You’re not a monster,” I told her and took her face in my hands. I expected her to remove my hands, but instead she leaned into my touch.
“Do you not agree with your shifter boy?” she asked less harshly.
“No! And he’s not mine. I don’t want him. I never have. I want you. Only you. I don’t think you’re heartless or a monster. You’re sweet and caring in your own way.”
