God
His eyes changed
Everything in his face darkened
His hand slammed into the tree beside my head, fingers digging into the bark
His body pinned me in place
His ck-hard, thick, angry-pressed against my stomach through his sweatpants and oh my f*****g God? felt it I felt everything
“You’re not old enough to be talking like that,” he growled, his face so close I could feel his breath on my lips
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be looking at me like that,”
I whispered
It was a war now
A slow, filthy, breathless war
His knuckles brushed my cheek
His other hand hovered just beneath my breast
I held still
Waiting
Daring
Begging without saying a word
Then I whimpered
Quiet
Pathetic
Accidental
And he groaned
Like the sound broke him
“I should walk away,” he muttered, more to himself than to me
“Then why haven’t you,”
I whispered
His head dropped
His forehead pressed to mine
Our breaths tangled
Everything went quiet
Except the rain
The wind
The throb between my legs
And his voice
One more time
Soft
Broken
Hungry
“Because you’re f*****g killing me,” he growled, voice all wrecked and ragged like he’d just fought a war with himself and lost.
And I swear to God my p***y clenched so hard I almost whimpered.
Because he meant it.
He wasn’t bluffing.
He wasn’t teasing.
He was starving.
And I was the only thing on the menu.
I could feel it in the way his jaw flexed.
I could feel it in the way his chest heaved against mine.
I could feel it in the way his eyes dropped to my mouth like he was about to lose every bit of his control and f**k me right there against the tree until I cried his name.
So I smiled.
Real slow.
Real cruel.
The kind of smile that said I know exactly what I’m doing to you and I want to watch you break from it.
“Then maybe I want to kill you,”
I whispered, voice soft and sugar-sweet but dripping with something filthier, darker, wetter.
His nostrils flared.
His whole body jerked forward like he didn’t even mean to.
The hand braced beside my head curled into a fist, and the other one-oh God-the other one lifted halfway, hovering just beneath my t**s like he didn’t trust himself to touch me without ruining me.
I leaned in closer.
Close enough for my breath to ghost over his lips.
Close enough for my soaked t**s to brush his chest and make his eyes go wide.
Tension At Its Peak
“Do you want to know what I was thinking about under that tree?”
I whispered, so quiet, so dirty it didn’t even sound like it came from me.
He didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
His eyes were locked to my lips like they were dangerous.
“Hmm?”
I tilted my head like I was trying to be sweet, like I wasn’t about to destroy both of us.
“Do you want to know what I was doing while you were yelling at me on the phone?”
His throat bobbed.
His breath stuttered.
I knew I had him.
So I dragged it out
Wickedly
Obscenely
“I had my hand between my legs,”
I breathed, voice shaking now because I was so wet again I could feel it leaking down my thigh.
“Two fingers, Daddy. Just two.”
His groan was more like a snarl.
“Slipping through my panties while I moaned your name.”
His mouth parted.
I didn’t stop.
Couldn’t stop.
“Thinking about your voice. That angry voice. That thick c**k pressed to your thigh while you drove like a f*****g demon to find me.”
“Lyra,” he growled.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.