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Oh, great job, Journey. Give him ideas.
His entire body stiffens. “Only bad people meet the sharp end of my lion's teeth. Not you, Kitten. I'll let you pet them, and they'll absolutely love you. They’ll want to lick you, But they won’t. Only I can lick you.”
I blink when he does just that, running his tongue up my cheek like he’s marking his territory, and then pulls back, eyeing me expectantly.
“Now, choppity chop, Kitten. Let me see your beautiful tits,” he says, bouncing on his damn toes.
His snake eye is looking at me again, practically throbbing as he awaits me to get naked. It flops up and down every time he bounces on his toes.
Holy shit. That thing fit inside me?
Fuck.
Stop looking at it.
“Kitten, he just really likes you. But don't worry. This shower is for you. We can take care of ourselves later.”
At the sound of his voice, I jerk my gaze away. I wasn't looking. I swear. I didn't even notice the small tattoo wrapped under the head. Not at all.
“Is that a tattoo on it?” I ask, turning bright red and avoiding his stare.
“Oh. You saw that! Well, you can become acquainted with it later and really read what it says. Up close and personal.” His hand wraps around his length, gently stroking up and down. “Don't worry, I won't come. It's the work up that really gets me going for later.”
I nod absentmindedly, continuing my not so staring contest with his dick as he strokes it. All right. I can't tear my eyes away. It's not every day a girl like me gets locked in a bathroom with a man like him. Tall. Handsome. Slightly deranged. He oozes danger, drawing me in like a damn moth to the flame.
“Can you at least turn around while I pee?” I grumble, stepping up to the toilet to check my tampon and discard it.
His face lights up, and he nods, twisting on his heels.
“No peeking,” I grumble, pulling my pants down.
“Shy bladder, Kitten?”
I huff, finally using the facilities and checking for my tampon, but nothing seems to be there. I stiffen, checking my underwear, but it’s not the underwear I was wearing last night. It’s completely black and clings to me perfectly.
“What the…”
“Oh, it’s period underwear, Kitten. I looked into it myself and then put it on you while you were sleeping.” Arrow grins, turning around to stare at me while I sit on the toilet red-faced.
“Why?” I’ve come to the realization though, that sometimes I don’t want to ask him the questions because he never seems to answer.
“I didn’t want you to bleed through,” he says, tilting his head. “Unless you wanted to?”
“Uh, no. I’m just confused why I didn’t wake up and feel you doing it.” Something in my gut says more happened last night after I drank the wine. There’s no way I was actually drunk. Did that mother fucker drug me? Again? I narrow my eyes at his innocent face.
Arrow has the skin of a damn angel, looking heavenly, but it's all a ruse.
“You’re a heavy sleeper,” he says with a shrug. “Now, get naked so I can wash you up.”
I’ve come to the conclusion that I shouldn’t even bother. So, without looking into it too much, I pull myself together and quickly take all my clothes off, discarding them to the side without a second thought. It's not like he hasn't seen me before.
All my insecurities flee when his heated eyes trail up and down my naked body. He steps forward, letting go of his length, and trails his fingers over my tattoo.
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, Kitten,” he mumbles, running his fingers over the scar beneath my ink. “It matches mine, you know?” he says, gesturing to the wound on his chest.
I swallow hard, nodding. I know what it means. It's a symbol of his loyalty to the Viotto Crime Family. Once they have these scars etched into their flesh, only death eliminates them from the organization.
My fingers trace the healing wound, slick with some sort of medicine helping the process. Goosebumps spark across his flesh, and a low groan leaves his throat with satisfaction.
