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Until I drain him.
Until there’s nothing left of him. Or me.
I inch even closer so that I’m covering him entirely and my raging erection presses against his firm ass.
Needless to say, I’ve been as hard as a rock since he shoved Clara away from me. I like to think he didn’t want her to touch me, not the other way around.
Because he toldherto leave and he didn’t follow.
Call me delusional, but I choose to believe the calm anger he displayed was due to being possessive of me.
He squirms, his ass brushing accidentally—or not so accidentally—against my cock and I groan.
God-fucking-damn-it.
Why the fuck is mere contact turning me into an animal? The thought of claiming him ticks in my brain like a bomb, drowning any trace of other thoughts. Not that I have many of those when he’s around, but still.
He inches closer to the door as if he can escape me. Not possible in this lifetime and any future ones, if I have a say in it.
“Don’t touch me,” he orders, but his voice carries nothing of the usual haughtiness he breathes instead of air.
“But I love touching you, my Prince Charming.”
“I don’t give a fuck about what you love, and I’m not your Prince Charming.” He swings around, the sheer mass of his body lunging forward, eyes blazing with a fire so fucking wild, I want to fan it, turn it as bright as an inferno.
He tries to push against me, but I slam my hands against the door on either side of his head, my chest shoving his. I’m so close, I can smell the alcohol on his breath and see that fire burning in his eyes.
More.
I smirk, staring down at his puffed-out lips. “Someone is mad.”
“Fuck you.”
“Baby, you know I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
He grabs me by the throat, fingers digging ruthlessly into the sides. “You need to stay the hell away from me.”
“No.” I try to step closer and he tightens his grip until I can barely breathe. My lungs burn, and I can feel the veins in my neck bulging.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“Mmm. Love it when you get rough.”
“You think I’m joking?” His short nails sink into my skin. “Touch me and I’ll choke you to death.”
“Tell me more. Your mouth makes me so fucking hard.” I roll my hips and slam them against his groin.
And fuck.
Fuck me.
“Looks like I make you hard, too. If I reach inside your pants, will I find you leaking for me?”
“You fucking—” His face flushes a subtle shade of red and his fingers compress so hard, they shake.
He’s shaking, my Prince Charming, losing his precious control one layer at a time.
And what do I do?
