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His hand travels down my neck to where he bit me, circling the wound before sliding down my breast, cupping it, rolling my hardened nipples between his fingers, forcing the arousal to take over. He kisses me so hard and fast I’m out of breath and out of the will to resist.
“What the fuck, Kai?”
Nathan’s voice makes me pull away, and we glance at Nathan and Milo, who are casually staring at us like we’ve lost our damn minds.
I most definitely have.
When Kai turns back to me, I slap him. Hard.
He merely stays there, the stain on his cheek growing redder and redder.
He releases my other wrist too, and his hand moves to his face to touch the spot I marked.
I slap his other cheek with my newly freed hand, biting my lip, enraged at the fact that he’d kiss me, but even more enraged by the fact that I’d gleefully go along with it.
How dare he?
How dare he make me feel so fucking hot for him?
God, I fucking hate him so much.
Yet those lips stained with my red lipstick draw me in so much that I hover closer and slam my lips on his again even though I know I shouldn’t. And my arms immediately wrap around his neck as his tongue bores into my mouth, his kisses so rough and greedy that I’ve become addicted.
He shoves me right back into the wall, hand gripping my throat, squeezing tighter and tighter with every passing second as though he’s waiting for me to pull back and force him to stop.
But I’m too lost in his possessive kisses to even care about losing my breath.
That’s how fucked up he’s gotten me.
As my vision grows dark, his fingers release from my neck, allowing the oxygen to flow back to my brain, and I suck in a breath when his lips unlatch from mine.
“I knew you would come to me …” he murmurs. “Come to offer your lips to me, little kitty?”
Fuck. What the hell am I even thinking? Kissing him a second time?
“Fuck off, you trapped me,” I respond.
The foul arrogance on his face makes me want to slap him a third time. “Yet you kissed me again out of your own volition.”
I spit in his face.
He just makes me that fucking angry.
He wipes it off slowly, his fingers tightening around my throat again. “I warned you the last time … bad kitties get punished.”
“Can’t … breathe,” I mutter.
“Good. Your breath belongs to me.”
Oh my God.
“I want you to remember this feeling. This need creeping up deep inside your chest,” he says, his fingertips traipsing my chest. “Submission.” He tips down my chin until my lips forcefully part. “You are mine. All of you. That was our deal. And if you’re so intent on being a hissy cat … then you’ll swallow it all.”
And he shoves his fingers, along with my spit, into my mouth, rubbing them on my tongue in the far back of my throat until I cough.
But all I can think of is that one breath I need.
“Swallow.”
