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“Bastard.”
The slap to my cheek comes out of nowhere. I capture her wrist, a surge of arousal hitting me harder than any blow she could ever wield.
This time, when I take her lips, I push the concept of gentle aside and crush her mouth beneath mine, demanding acquiescence.
There are limits to what I will take, even from her, and Bianca just crossed a line from which there will be no turning back.
For either of us.
8
“… sex, desire, love, can in some lights seem synonymous, and in others like elements entirely alien to one another.”
Garth Greenwell
Bianca
Rio’s kissis not about desire. The act is designed to discipline me, pure and simple. All for the fact that I dared raise my hand to him.
Iknowthat was the moment I went too far. I would have hit him harder if I hadn’t realized that at the very last second and tried to pull back.
Even knowing his motivation stems from punishment, I can’t control my goddamn body’s response to the delicious, monstrous onslaught.
His presence is so powerful, so strong, that he engulfs me in every way. Even though I hate him—even though part of me wishes he were dead or in jail—I can’t hide the fact that there is something about him that switches my body on.
He doesn’t need to do anything. He just needs to be nearby, and it’s like all my nerve endings light up of their own volition.
I’ve never felt like that toward anyone, let alone someone I genuinely think is abhorrent.
What is wrong with me? Has the trauma of the past twenty-four hours sent me a little insane?
My mouth automatically opens to let him in, my lips and teeth and tongue beginning a sensual dance with the devil who has dared to invade me in this way. He tastes like coffee, and wine, and some kind of raw male essence that I know is uniquely his.
I hate it, and I love it, in equal measure. I whimper, needing release from the connection, but as if of their own accord, my hands claw at his silk shirt, dragging him in for more.
His scent rises up, a pleasant and spicy juxtaposition to the kiss, like a metaphorical return slap in the face. It’s like he is saying, “Thisis what you could have, this strong, sexy, and powerful man who desires you intensely, butthisis what you deserve—the punishment; the lack of respect. And the proof that I can drag out a response from you, Bianca, whether you want to give me one or not.”
Fuck, I hate him.
Fuck. I can’t get enough of the bastard.
Somehow, I end up on my ass on the dining room table, crockery and cutlery swept aside in a haphazard mess to make room. My legs splay wide as his erection slides up and down against my core. He is huge, and I wonder what it would feel like if he thrust up and into me with all those firm inches of flesh.
The rush of desire that fans out from our erotic connection is so strong I shudder beneath him.
And still, that punishing kiss goes on.
His fingers dig into my hips, his grip firm as he holds me in place on the polished surface of the table. I clutch at his upper arms, the muscles that ripple beneath my palms only adding to his terrible allure.
When his lips leave mine, I cry out. A wail that contains both self-loathing and need.
You’re sick, my mind screams.You must be, to let him do this to you.
He nuzzles at my neck, kissing and biting, and damned if I don’t tilt back my head to allow him to do so more freely.
A shocked gasp and the smashing of glass are what finally interrupt us.
Rio slowly lifts his head, releasing my neck almost lazily, and turns to the side to stare at whoever has entered.
