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~Echo
CHAPTERFORTY-TWO
Imade him bleed one day.
On his shoulders and his upper back.
A little bit on the side of his neck too, and he told me that that wasn’t the first time I’d done that.
That I did that a lot. Made him bleed.
“I do not,” I gasped, straddling his body, sitting on his back and eyeing my handiwork.
His face was turned to the side, his cheek resting on his folded arms. “That’s what happens when you fuck a hellcat.”
I pulled at his hair even as I traced and caressed the scratch marks I left him. “Does it hurt?”
Staring into my eyes, he replied, “Yeah.”
“What, really?” Horrified, I took in the scratch marks again. “I’m so sorry. I’m —”
Instead of words, a squeal came out.
Because abruptly, he spun around and changed positions. And I found myself straddling his stomach instead of his back. And it was a loud squeal too, but that was okay. We were in his gray motel room instead of my pink bedroom.
Grabbing my waist, he murmured, “Well, sorry doesn’t cut it now, does it, Bubblegum?”
My hands landed on his bare shoulders. “So then what does, Bandit?”
A light flashed in his reddish-brown eyes, a mischievous light. “I have a few things in mind.”
Oh no.
I knew that look. Iknewthat tone.
I shook my head. “No.”
He chuckled. “Yes.”
“Not in a million years.”
“Million years, huh. Now we’ve got something to work with.”
“Really? A million years is something to work with?”
“It’s better than never.”
God, he made me laugh.
And that’s why I kept shaking my head. “No.”
His lips twitched. “Come on, Bubblegum, don’t be such a crybaby.”
I swatted his chest. “I’m allowed to be a crybaby about this.”
He pulled me down toward him. “Just the tip.”
I bumped our noses together. “No.”
