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“You were put on this damned earth to be mine, Delilah.”
And then, before she can argue, which I'm sure she's going to do because she's Lilah, I kiss her, shutting her up.
I think I love kissing her most of all—the way the world shuts off when her lips touch mine.
The way I can forget who I am and who she is and the mess of what that all means when I’m kissing her makes me never want to stop.
But then I remember what else turns off the world.
“Bedroom? Or your couch?” I ask, breaking the kiss, my hands running up smooth skin as I work her sweatshirt up. She lifts her arms like a little kid as I pull it over her head, then I toss it in the corner. I can't resist pressing my lips to her again.
"What?" she asks, her eyes dazed when I break the kiss.
"Where am I going to fuck you, Delilah?" My hand tugs on her hair, her eyes clearing for just a moment as I do.
It’s becoming a favorite of mine - bringing her back to earth and watching her realize I'm in front of her, waiting for a response.
"I don't—"
I don't have time for this. I bend, lift her into my arms, and walk to the bedroom. As I kick the door behind us, I smile, noting the blankets are a mess and clothes are strewn around everywhere in a way that is so entirely Delilah.
"Your bed it is." I toss her onto her bed, and she bounces on the soft mattress. "Take off your sweats," I demand, my fingers moving to the buttons on my shirt, wishing I had just put on a tee before heading to the store.
I fight the smile as she eagerly pushes her sweats off, kicking her feet adorably to try and get them off before I give in and help her. Once her feet are free, I toss them in the same pile where my shirt and her sweatshirt are now.
When her hands move to the thin lace at the sides of her underwear, though, I stop her.
"No."
"What?" My hand moves to hers, placing it back on the bed.
"That's my job."
"Your job?" she asks with a smile.
"Yeah," I say, standing straight again and then working on my pants.
"And what do I do?" she asks, leaning back on her elbows. She's wearing a lacy, light-purple bra and panty set that shows off her curves, her lips tipped in a soft smile like she knows what she's doing to me.
Driving me fucking insane with need.
"You lie there and be pretty, wait for your man to take care of you."
Her eyebrow raises, and the thoughts churning in her mind are visible.
The internal battle.
She's spent a long time being a pretty thing, and I think she's over it.
The question is, will she listen and be a good girl?
Or will she do whatever the fuck she wants?
She goes with the latter, just like I expect.
One hand moves, a single red-tipped finger pushing the lacy cup of her bra down until her full breast is out, her dark nipple pebbling both with the cool air and arousal. She licks her lips, keeping her eyes on me as my hands are paused at the buttons of my slacks.
Then she takes two fingers and rolls the nipple between them, her eyes drifting shut as she moans.
