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Her eyes suck me in.
The contradiction this woman is drives me wild.
I suckle her nipple then move to the other, stroking her clit in lazy strokes. I could devour her all night long, until all her body craves is my cock and the need to come.
“Eyes on me. Just like that, come like a good girl.”
And she does, shatters under me, mouth open, dilated pupils, heavy breathing as her pussy drenches my cock with her orgasm. I grip her chin, not allowing her to look anywhere but at me as I fill her with my cum.
“Watch me taking you.”
“Go to hell.”
“You had your chance, but you have a weak spot for the monster,cara.”
And with a smirk, I empty my cum inside her, stilling, our bodies glued together, until I finally slip out, satiated for now.
I scoop her up, carrying her trembling and spent body toward the bathroom. I made my point. She doesn’t want to kill me.
Turning the tap, I pour some oil in the running water and place her inside the bath. She closes her eyes, lips parted in half a moan, half a hiss. When the bathtub is full, I move to leave, but her eyes open. It’s clear she wants me to stay, but she has to say it.
I’m almost at the door when she says, “Cato . . .”
“Yes,cara.”
“I don’t want to be alone right now.”
I close the distance between us, my heart soaring in my chest, and I step inside the bathtub with her.
Chapter 17
I have lost my mind. There is no other logical explanation. But as I turn in his arms and see the fine pink line against his neck, my heart squashes with an unpleasant feeling, and I let out a labored breath. I am not a monster. I am not him. He brushes his fingers over my collarbone. This man’s every touch, be it gentle or rough, sparks and torches every atom in me, making my body light up.
“We’re still enemies.”
Our moment in the kitchen doesn’t change that. I just need to get a grip on my emotions. It’s normal to be vulnerable after what happened tonight, from my failed attempt at killing him to him almost killing me with pleasure.
“Mm-hmm.”
He dips a loofah into the water and washes me tenderly. I close my eyes, savoring his gentle touch after he fucked me so raw, I thought I might die. The irony. I wanted to kill him, only for him to end up killing me. Only our breaths and water splashing penetrate the silence.
I get out of the bathtub, wincing. I catch myself in the mirror, flushed and rosy complexion, swollen lips, the faint traces of his fingers around my neck, the redness between my thighs. He was passionate and wild, and I hate myself for liking it more than anything else.
“Tonight was a mistake.”
His anger is palpable. His eyes pin me with raw intensity.
“Which part?”
“The last part. I don’t want you near me.”
He storms into the walk-in closet, mumbling what I make out to be, “Impossible woman.”
He halts at the door when I say, “Where are you going?”
“I will come to bed when you fucking beg me to.”
He slams the door shut, and I am frozen in place.
