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She glances down at the half-eaten muffin on a crumpled paper bag she came with and swipes at her beautiful, perfect lips. “Is there something on my face? Crumbs?”
Her hot cocoa eyes widen, bright and naïve. She’s so damn clueless how fucking gorgeous she is. If I wasn’t so fucking thankful that it kept other men away, I’d be downright pissed off about it.
“No,” I rumble.
Irritability flares bright in my chest. Is that why she thinks I’m looking at her?
She squints her eyes at me for a moment. Her head dips down to the ever-present grape-colored backpack covered with pin buttons. For the first time, I peer closer to see what they’re about. There are a few humorous buttons, but most of them are about…art? I recognize one by the iconic “M” of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
She bends down and pulls out a small mirror, making a little satisfied sound as she determines she doesn’t have traces of muffin on her face.
“You don’t believe me?”
“No,” she grunts.
Growing more insulted by the moment, I ask, “Why would I lie about something as stupid as that?”
“Why do you lie about anything?” she throws back at me with a hard glare. “I don’t know why you do anything you do. Scratch that.” She gives a little shrug. “I don’t think about you. You’re not worth my time.”
Annoyance snaps inside me like a live wire. I sit up straight. Fury and indignation beat at my chest.Oh, is that right?
I scooch my chair over until I’m right beside her.
Her eyes flare in alarm.
“You don’t think about me, huh?” I start, placing my hand on her lithe thigh. My hand covers the entire width, it’s so slim.
Her thigh muscle jumps on contact.
“W-what are you doing?” she demands, jerking back.
I wrap my hand tighter around her thigh, holding her in place. “Seeing how you don’t think about me, how I don’t affect you in any way, you wouldn’t mind me touching you, then.”
“Y-Yeah, that’s right,” she stutters.
Uh-huh, sure.
But I’m nowhere satisfied with a timid little touch.
I’m not a timid guy.
Far from it.
I slide my hand to the crease where her thigh meets her pussy, and before she can react, I grab her by the nape, bring her close, and crush my lips against hers. I flick the seam of her lips and bubblegum flavor explodes on my tongue. I nip at her bottom lip to open.
She gasps and I plunder her mouth hard and fast like the punishment she deserves. Teach her who she’s dealing with. Reprimand her for not noticing me. My nostrils flare as her cherry vanilla scent penetrates my nose and I can’t help but greedily drag in more. Fuck, I’m in heaven.
Groaning, I cup her pussy, and goddamn if it’s not hot to the touch.
My heart pounds in my chest. Lust pumps through my bloodstream.
She makes angry little sounds, which goads me to hold on tighter, delve in deeper. Those indignant gasps make me harder, and I swallow them down like they’re the finest nectar. This will teach her not to dismiss me again.
I push my tongue farther in, drawing in more of her cherry-vanilla-bubblegum taste, amping up my desire. I mean for the kiss to teach her a lesson, but one taste and I’m spiraling down a rabbit hole of need.
And then she bites me.
I taste the metallic tang of blood and suppress a laugh of glee. This little bitch has some bite to her and I fuckingloveit. I don’t pull back as she expects and her teeth stop their compression, releasing my lip just a little bit, as if testing me.
