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Sweat slicked his palms on my wrists. He inhaled sharply. A car passed below my window, its headlights illuminating Patrick’s outline, and drove off.
“I love you.” His rough voice pulled an involuntary sound from me. “You're mine, Christina. You always have been, from the first time I touched you.”
“Before that,” I breathed. “From the first time I saw you. I couldn’t forget you.”
In the blackness of my bedroom, our lips met.
The kiss wasn't soft or sweet. I knew we'd have those later. We'd had them before; the ones to come would be even sweeter. But this one was feral, sharp, painful in its intensity. Wet and sucking and animal, pulling at my pussy from deep inside. We were eating each other, starving, until I broke the kiss, my head spinning.
“Let me go,” I whispered. “Please…”
After a second, his fingers left my wrists.
I cupped his erection in one hand and felt for his face with the other. His stubble pricked my palm. He swore. The words were profane, but from Patrick, they were cleansing.
His cock was so hard. Angry, throbbing through his jeans. I rubbed it with the aim to tease, scratching his balls lightly through thick denim. His growl was everything I could hope for.
“Are you going to be the Big Bad Wolf and keep me with you always?”
“That’s what you want?”
“I want all of you.” Words he’d rasped to me hours ago, desire and reluctance warring in his gaze. “The teddy bear and the wolf. Nice Patrick and Mean Patrick. And everything in between.”
“You’re a greedy girl, Christina.”
“With you, I am.” I shivered as his fingertips traced the swell of my breast.
“Then you can have Nice Patrick tonight, baby.” He kissed a feather-light path up my neck and nuzzled my jaw. It was too gentle, and he knew it.
“Not tonight,” I gritted.
“No?” Another soft kiss landed on my lips in the dark, and I dug my nails into his back. “You don’t want me to tell you how pretty you are? How special? Make love to you so sweet and slow? I can be very, very nice to you, my love.”
Warmth spread through me. I was getting drunk on his words, but those feathery touches would never give me the release I needed after the stress of the night. I wanted Patrick to fuck that stress out of me roughly, brutally, and hold me tenderly afterwards.
“Would that even turn you on, to be so nice?”
“Youturn me on.”
“Patrick…”
He chuckled, and the knowing sound raised the hairs on my arms.
“What do you want, angel?” All the terms of endearment, so rare in the past, were making me lightheaded. “Right here, right now. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”
I squeezed his heavy cock, slipping my hand under his shirt to stroke his carved chest. A whole universe of choices opened up, dazzling me with the possibilities of what it meant to be Patrick’s lover instead of his companion.
“Be very mean to me,” I whispered in his ear. “Don’t hold back. Don’t try to control yourself. But I want Nice Patrick back after you come.”
I waited for an answer, but none came. His silence sharpened my nerves.
As my breath came faster, his hands began to roam over my body, squeezing the soft spots, lighting me on fire. When he tweaked both my nipples, crushing the tender buds, I cried out and grabbed his wrists.
He twisted free, laughing. “What’s wrong? Haven’t you heard I like to play with my dinner before I gobble it up?”
“Yesssss…” It came out wavery. “I’ve heard all the stories.”
“So you know that when you come skipping through the woods, so curious, sotrusting,this could happen.” Hot wetness surrounded my nipple, sucking hard. “And this.” He bit the puffy bud. I shrieked, clutching his head. “And this.” More bites and sucks marked a path down my belly.
