The breath evaporates in my lungs. The never-dormant ravenous need inside me stirs. He fuels dual cravings. Violence and lust. Torture and intimacy.
“What proof did she require you return to her?” I ask.
No answer, and thefuck youin his blazing glare doesn’t count.
I strike again, lacerating the taut skin under his chin. Blood bubbles up, slipping down the front of his neck. The hiss that releases from him is so low, so muted, I almost miss it. Almost.
My heart thumps against my sternum at his first overt reaction, and excitement howls a vicious war song through my veins. I jerk my gaze up to his and amincinerated.
By hate. Oh yes. He wants my throat under his own blade. Or his hands covered in my blood.
But there’s something else. Something more complicated than rage or hatred. Something hotter. Something dirtier…
No.
Confusion snakes its nebulous arms in and around my rib cage, sticky and clinging. And underneath, winding like a graceful yet devious vine, lurks suspicion.
And glee.
Hmm.
Those patrician nostrils flare, and the audible breath he draws in is the sweetest melody that has ever graced my ears. Fuck my ears—it strums over my entire body. Skimming over my skin like calloused fingertips, eliciting shivers and electrical shocks of pleasure. My pussy hums in approval, spasming around an emptiness she finds inexcusable.
Dipping my head, I lap at the base of his throat where the trail of blood has already pooled. The metallic, salty flavor flirts with my tongue, filling my mouth, my nose. A growl, feral and low,rumbles against my lips, and it only stirs my hunger for more of his essence.
His chest heaves beneath me, and continuous growls emanate from him. His hips punch upward, showcasing that beautiful, long, and hard dick pressing against his pants. Oh, and it’s lovely. I almost purr in satisfaction at the sight of it. I’m more aware than ever that a great predator lies chained beneath me. Not that I ever truly forgot. These manacles in no way diminish the power he exudes like pheromones or that scent of leather, gun oil, and sun-warmed skin. He’s Prometheus, bound to a rock. Captured but not lessened, not cowed. Still a dangerous, seductive threat.
Sitting up, I stare down at him, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth.
“You taste amazing,” I murmur.
“More.”
The order is so rough, so gravel torn that it’s nearly indecipherable.
I arch an eyebrow, running the blade over the pad of my thumb. “Oh, so you can speak. I was beginning to wonder.”
“Give me more.”
He doesn’t beg. No one with a single working brain cell could interpret that as a plea. Yes, I straddle him, but he’s issuing demands. And though I don’t bow to any living person, I want to surrender to him.
Because I want it, too.
So I give it to him.
“Lick it.”
Slowly, I obey, lowering my head and sucking on the lacerated flesh, groaning at the rich, briny taste.
“Fuck,” he snaps, and the chains at the head of the bed rattle. The sturdy black iron bedposts creak, but they hold. “Again. A-fucking-gain,” he snarls.
An instinctivewho the fuck you talking to?surges to my tongue. And only years of icy control hold me back from plunging the knife somewhere painful but not life endangering in his body. Buteven that wouldn’t save him, just as the same restraint didn’t save the other mu’fuckas who’d dismissed my size and sex, then fucked around and found out.
No, only one thing is keeping him from becoming my personal pincushion.
Liquid heat doused in gasoline pours through me, swirling over my breasts and beading the nipples into tight, aching points, twisting in my belly, stroking my pussy… The rigid steel in his tone should have me homicidal, not hovering on the edge of orgasm—but it does. I’m teetering, and all it would take is a firm, lingering glide of my fingers through my wet, swollen folds… a glance over my pulsing clit… and I’d tip over that edge.
Tip, hell—plummet. I’d plummet into an orgasm that I suspect would be better than half the sex I’ve had. And he hasn’t even touched me.
