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“That’s true.” I crack my back and close my eyes. “I like it though. Most of the time, anyway. When you’re not being a prick.”
I can’t even tell him straight out how I feel without trying to bury it with an insult. How are we supposed to make this work if I can’t even communicate? But I’ve never been good at this feelings stuff, much less doing it in a highly stressful situation.
He’s quiet for a moment. I feel exposed and silly, wondering if maybe I’ve tipped my hand and now he’s going to finally pull away, until he says, “I like it too. More than I should.”
That makes me smile. My stomach turns in pleasant loops. “I knew it. You’re obsessed with me,”
“I can’t help myself. I’ve already started weaving a hair doll from your shower leavings.”
“That’s incredibly creepy.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t tell you about all the pictures I’ve taken of you while you sleep then.”
“Should I start running away?”
He laughs, stroking his fingers from my belly button to the bottoms of my breasts. “I’m serious though, Ren. I feel the same way you do, and I’ve never felt this way before.”
My eyebrows raise. “Really? You seem pretty well-versed in what to do in bed.”
“Fucking is one thing. I meant get involved.” He hesitates. “I’m slightly worried I’m not objective enough right now. You know, with this whole situation.”
I lace my fingers through his, holding his hand tightly. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
“It’s a compliment. I think.” He sits up, studying me. “I worry I’m going to be too cautious now that we’re becoming something.”
“Who says we’re becoming something?” I grin at him, shifting away when he tries to throw a pillow at me, releasing his hand. I throw the pillow back, slamming it into his chest. “You’re very presumptuous.”
“I love it when you fight,” he says, throwing the pillow at me again. I knock it aside and barely have time to yelp before he grabs my ankle and yanks me over to him. I laugh, struggling, but he’s too damn strong. I end up on my belly, one arm pinned behind my back, his weight holding me down. “I love it even better when you give in.”
“I prefer to keep on fighting,” I say, wiggling my ass. Against all odds, he’s starting to get hard again. The insatiable monster. “Keeps you honest.”
“Keeps me wanting you, more like.” He breathes in my hair and bites my back. I squirm harder, laughing as I try to get away, but he holds on tight to my hair. “Keeps me wanting to punish you. Which I’m starting to think you greatly enjoy. I can’t imagine why else you’d act like such a bad girl all the time.”
“And how are you going to punish me now? With your continued presence? With your odious personality? You do realize every waking moment with you is a punishment?” I try to struggle away, but his hands are like iron manacles.
“You have no idea what it means to be punished, little darling,” he whispers in my ear, practically cooing at me. “I could tie your hands behind your back. Use you like a doll. Fuck you senseless.”
I shiver, pulse racing into my throat. “Sorry, where’s the punishment in that? Sounds like a good time to me. Well, with anyone but you.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable. Most women wouldn’t want to be called a fuck doll, and here you are, drooling at the idea.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m drooling, but I’m certainly interested. Know someone worth trying it with?”
“Naughty girl.” He laughs, then turns me over, pinning my hands above my head. He’s definitely hard now, his cock pressing up between my legs as he kisses me.
“I’m the naughty one? You can’t be around me for ten minutes without trying to get in my pants.” I bite his lip. “Prick. Keep your hands to yourself.”
He laughs, releases my wrists, and drops between my legs. I try to twist away, but he’s holding me tight as his mouth finds my pussy, licking me slowly at first. “Lovely girl,” he purrs. “I very much enjoy the way you taste, my pretty Ren. I love the noises you make even more. You do realize how sinful you sound when you’re moaning my name? It’s absolutely debased, utterly filthy. You sound like you can’t control yourself.”
“Careful,” I whimper as he licks me, spreading me with his tongue. “Still tender. And I can control myself all I want.”
“Sore from all this fucking? And here I was thinking you could handle it.”
“I can handle a lot worse than you,” I say through my teeth, holding back moans. My head’s spinning from his dirty talk. “But I’m starting to tolerate this.”
He laughs, licking me faster. I’m wet, I’m moaning, and Lanzo goes to work. The man knows exactly how to push my buttons, exactly where to lick, where to stroke, when to slide his fingers deep inside. I’m writhing against him, brain turning into mush, and soon I come for the fifth time today under his exceedingly skilled tongue.
“Good girl,” he says, kissing me, letting me taste myself in his mouth.
