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And until then, I was willing to address a whole other “something” I was feeling for him, right now, something in a very physical manner.
His chest rose, but he ran his finger over, pulling the side of my tank down, exposing one of my breasts. His finger moved up, circling my nipple. “I’ll always be the murderer.”
“I know what you were planning to do, you know.”
I was watching him as I said it, and he paused, his eyes steady on mine. My pulse was skyrocketing, and a deep ache was beginning to pound between my legs. Still, I held firm. “You were going to use me as bait for Kelly’s killer.”
His voice was raspy. “You knew?”
I nodded, silent, before murmuring, “I guessed.”
The thought of what he could’ve done, maybe should’ve done—my gut shifted, sliding to the side, because a part of me understood. The part like him, the part that helped me survive the streets, the part that contributed to when “the switch” happened, but the other part, of actual thinking what that would’ve been like? Sitting. Being bait?
“I understand, but I’m not happy about it.” I reached up, pulling my tank down on my other side, letting that breast free as well.
We shared a long look. Him, I don’t know, but me, I was letting him know that I wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t wide eyed. And I wasn’t totally sure if I was going to be pissed about what he might’ve done.
“And your response to what I was considering doing?”
I shook my head, instead answering in a whole different away. I moved up, lifting my leg and coming down to straddle him. Both of us paused at the contact because he was right there.
He felt good. So good.
I bit down on my lip and began to move over him.
He groaned, his hand moving to the back of my ass, clamping on. I was learning it was one of his favorite places to hold on to me, but he was guiding me so we were both grinding against each other.
I leaned back, my hips still riding him, and I gasped against the onslaught of pleasure. “I’m not the girl who thinks sex is love. I know it’s not. It’s never been that in my life.”
“Molly. About what I—”
“Shut up.” I rose and paused, then ground against him, going slow, savoring.
He frowned a little, but he moved me harder, more insistent over him, distracted at the same time. He reached up, one of his hands resting on my neck, the rest of his fingers, his palm, spread out over the side of my face. He was half holding me in place, half somewhat cradling me in a touch that might’ve been gentle, but it was also slightly aggressive. We both knew it.
His eyes flashed, hard, as I rolled my hips forward. “What kind of girl are you then, Molly?”
Need and carnal desire were pulsating through my body, spreading, and I knew he wouldn’t say no this time. Or if he did, that’d be interesting as well, but because of that, because of what we were doing, because he was rock hard underneath me, I reached down and pulled his pants low. I moved up, shoving my own pants down, and then I paused.
His dick was fucking long and hard.
I was in love with that part of him, but shooting him a slight grin, I didn’t share.
I just panted, “Condom?”
“Molly.” He was gritting his teeth.
I shook my head. “You messed up. That’s what I think.”
“How?” he rasped out, his other hand kneading my ass.
I knocked his hand away from my face and neck, before grabbing ahold of his cock. He hissed at the touch, but his eyes only closed for a moment. I said then, when he wasn’t looking at me, “You should’ve used me when you had the chance.”
His eyes opened, and they were molten. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed one from the drawer. He handed it to me, content to watch as I worked my hand over him before putting the condom on, and then, I rose up. I positioned over him and sank down, both of us groaning at the feel of him inside of me.
That’s when I said, in a pant, “Because I’ll never give you the chance again.”
He cursed but shoved up even higher inside of me.
God. He felt so good.
I added, answering his other question, “I’m the girl who doesn’t know how to be treated right, so treat me right tonight.”
He froze at my words, but it didn’t matter.
I bent my head down, resting on his chest, and I rode him for myself.
Round two, he flipped us over.
I was on my back, he was above me, and he thrust inside, grinding in. He rode me, sometimes hard, sometimes slow, but always so fucking delicious that I was screaming by my second release, and he started pounding me for his own release.
