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I smirk at the thought.
Mother had asked to come here, not knowing that this is exactly where Michael and I come to clean up after our hunts. Isolated and in the woods, where else would we go?
I head to the steel table that dominates the middle of the room.
I gently place Charlotte down on the left side of it, away from the tools hanging on hooks attached along the edge of the table.
She stopped fighting when we entered the dark room, not in fear but rather acceptance. I feel it flow through her as I set her down.
I had expected her to fight more, to panic as the door closed behind us, leaving us in the pitch black.
But I guess a part of her understands that you don’t have to be afraid of the dark when the scariest thing in it loves you.
I need to see her, feel her, consume her.
Turning away from her, I pull the cord that illuminates the room, light flooding every inch of every corner.
Perfect,I grin, but it quickly falls when Charlotte stretches, reaching out for the hammer that sits farther down the table. Her fingertips manage to touch it, bringing it slightly closer as I close the distance between us once more.
I fight the urge to punish her again. After all, the door had been unlocked and the exit clear, but my girl had stayed, her ass still perched on the edge of the table, right where I left her.
Charlotte sits up, hammer in hand by the time I step between her knees. I hold my hand out for her newly acquired weapon of choice.
She glances at my hand for a second, the debate of what to do written clearly on her face. Finally, she gives a small pout, her bottom lip pushing out as she hands over the hammer.
Good girl.I throw it to the other end of the table. The loud bang causes her to startle. Her whole body lifts off the table and moves closer to the edge . . . closer to me.
Her body knows I will keep her safe.
My eyes zero in on her pouting lips. I want to feel them beneath mine, to taste her again.
Her gaze falls to my mouth, and that is all the encouragement I need as I lean down and steal my first kiss of the night.
Her lips are soft as I press our mouths together.
I pull back slightly to look at her face. Her eyes are wide, startled like she can’t believe what I just did.
Leaning in, I do it again, but firmer. This time, I pull her pouty lower lip into my mouth, nipping it quickly before soothing it with my tongue.
Her gasp fills both the room and my chest.
I bury my hand in her hair, knotting my fingers in it as I continue to nip at and soothe her lip, pressing my lips to hers over and over in between.
At first, she freezes, but her eyes soon close, and her lips respond.
Her hands quickly find their way to my body, rubbing at my abs and up over my chest.
Her mouth swallows my moan when her nails bite into the skin of my neck.
She scratches at my skin, and I hiss. Her nails cut slightly as she tries to pull me in like she can’t get close enough.
I rip my mouth away, gasping for air.
We’re both panting, my body hunched over hers. One hand is buried at the base of her skull while the other grips the edge of the table so hard I’m surprised it hasn’t crumpled.
Charlotte gasps, but this one is different. She sounds shocked, and a low whimper soon follows.
She’s staring at her hands, her blood-coated hands.
