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Turn around, push your forehead into the ground, then pry your arse-cheeks apart and present yourself to me.
"I appreciate you agreeing, but you’re not ready yet."
She stills. "I’m ready."
"You’re ready when I say you are."
"And when will that be?"
"You’ll know it." I weigh her breasts through my shirt before circling the outline of her nipples, finally planting my palms on her hips and setting her aside.
She whines. "Are you going to fuck me now?"
I shake my head.
"Why not?" She pouts.
"Because." I raise a shoulder.
"That’s not an answer," she cries.
"That’s all your brattiness is getting from me." I rise to my feet and begin to walk away. For a few seconds, there’s silence. Then, "What the—" I hear the slap of her feet on the floor, then footsteps coming toward me. I turn in time to catch her as she flings herself at me.
"You’re getting predictable." I smirk.
She sets her jaw, narrows her gaze, then she slaps me.
26
Solene
My palm print stands out against his cheek.Madonna Mia, how hard did I slap him? His blue eyes lose color, turning so pale they almost seem silver. The scar on his forehead turns white. Oh god, that’s not a good sign, is it? And I’m clinging to him with my arms about his neck, since I decided to throw myself at him and climb him like a tree… Again.
"Umm, you can let me down now."
His lips draw back in the semblance of a smile. Correction, it’s not a smile at all. It’s more of a statement of intent. He moves toward the breakfast table, his movements slow, deliberate. A thrill runs down my spine. My stomach ties itself in knots. My throat is dry. All the moisture has drained to that spot between my legs where he planted his cock inside of me not too long ago.
"What are you doing?"
He laughs. Thestronzolaughs.
"If you think you’re scaring me, you’re not."
"You will be."
He says it with such conviction, my heart begins to race. What the hell is he going to do? What does he have in mind? Whatever it is, I’m not going to like it. What's even more frightening is the thought that I will. Well, I have only myself to blame.
To be fair, he patted me on the head and told me he wasn’t going to fuck me today. But his gesture inflamed me. It felt like he was treating me like a child which I'm not. Of course, that's exactly how he wanted me to feel.Bastardo.
I’m on the verge of something big. Something monumental. I can feel it. And tonight, this night when I lost my virginity, I want more. I want to be with him. I want to… push him until he loses control and shows me the younger version of himself I met all those years ago. The man who had emotions running through his veins, before he found a way to hide that authentic part of him. I want to feel his unfettered self, want him to bare himself to me and show me how he really feels. Want him to not hide anymore or hold back, as he’s been doing so far.
He reaches the table, then lowers me to my feet in front of it.
"Declan, what—"
"Shh." He grips the ends of the shirt and yanks, pulling it apart. The buttons pop off. A small cry escapes my lips. That tightly leashed violence in his actions sends a spurt of expectation swirling down my legs. My knees turn to jelly, but his hold on my shoulder prevents me from sliding to the floor. He holds my gaze. "Do you want to leave?"
I look between his eyes. The silvery sparks are now intertwined with swirls of blue and green. Impatience clings to him. His chest muscles are so tense they could be carved out of marble. With that flawed beauty of his, he looks like he belongs from another dimension. Almost a god. No wonder he owns the silver screen. No wonder I could never get over him.
