A group of men and women passed by across the street, wearing dark ripped clothing and multi-colored hair. Ana waved at one of the guys, who gave her an upwards nod, a crooked smile on his lips. She uncrossed and crossed her legs, vaguely flashing a shadow of her bare cunt, then pulled her phone out to make herself busy.
She’d just pulled up one of the new social media apps Jay had told her about when she felt a hand brush her bare shoulder. And she could tell by the cold steel of the ring above his ring finger knuckle, that it was Sam.
“About time,” she muttered, starting to turn to look up at him. But he wrapped his fingers around the front of her jaw, and her eyes fluttered when he held her head straight.
“Shh…” he said, his other hand moving up her other shoulder, fingers digging into her skin and massaging her collarbone.
Ana sank into the feeling of his hands on her. She loved how touches like this made her feel taken, and yet somehow, still free. As though it was a relief of safety but an encouragement to continue being herself.
“Tell me you bought that lingerie set I sent you a photo of yesterday,” he said as his short nails scratched her trachea. His thumbs pressed into the back of her neck, drawing slow circles on her skin.
“That and a few more,” she said, eyes closing. “I was going to show you after dinner. Though, now…” Her head rolled as she relaxed completely into his grasp. “Now, I’m thinking you can do this to my entire body first and then you can see it.”
“Or I could do this to you while you’re wearing it.”
She groaned at the scratch of his fingers on her scalp. “Anything you want,” she managed.
His hand wrapped underneath her jaw, and he tilted her head back, until she was looking directly up at him.
“Hey, stalker,” she said, smiling at the perfection of him staring at her.
His lips lifted at the corner, and his fingers tightened. “Temptress,” he replied. “You look freshly pampered today… Was it the new salon you found?” He picked up a curl between his fingers, twirling the fresh spiral. “Or was it the thorough fucking at sunrise?” he asked, smirking smugly down at her.
She resisted her smile widening. Every touch replayed in her mind as his fingers continued to trace her neck and play in her hair. “It was the salon,” she said. “The fucking was nice, but the salon… Something about the water and a scalp massage that does things to the soul,” she finished.
Sam’s smile widened, his gaze washing out over the busy street. “Stand up,” he told her.
She did, and Sam sucked his lip behind his teeth as she stepped around the back of the bench, his eyes darting over her. And before she could say anything, he pulled her in for a kiss. Deep, encompassing, mind-numbing… The way Sam kissed her was the way she’d only ever seen in tragic movies. At first, she’d compared it to that final kiss before the hero said goodbye before sacrificing himself for some greater good.
Though, she was sure there was nothing heroic about the man in front of her.
He was the villain waiting in the shadows for the hero to off himself, so he could take what was always his. The one the heroine had shared fevered glances with across rooms while the hero held her… Until the tension became too much, and the heroine surrendered to his claiming passion and dangerous abyss.
She sucked in a breath when he finally parted from her, still holding her neck and squeezing her waist, as his dark eyes seared through to the depths of her existence… as if he could see every breath she’d ever taken, every step in her life, all the fire and killings and everything she was.
When she blinked, and the look was replaced with a sly smirk.
“The next time some idiot makes a pass at you on the street, make sure you give him more than a wave and flash of that pretty cunt,” he rasped. “I want every other person in this kingdom painstakingly jealous that they’re not the one fucking you at all hours of the day.”
Ana resisted the urge to smile. “You’re not worried one of these other men will be as good as you and sweep me off my feet if I give them too much of an invitation?”
“There are no men like me,” he swore, his eyes darkening.
And she hated the way her body responded to that.
People she’d consorted with in the past had tried to clothe her in frumpy dresses and keep her quiet. Told her never to smile at another man, not that it had ever stopped her. They’d pinned back her hair and tried to tame her spirit.
She’d enjoyed cutting their throats after, too.
Sam reached over the bench and picked up her bags, then threw them over his shoulder with a half-smile and a wink. “Not exactly sure where you wanted me to put these on the bike,” he said.
“I can take the bus if you like,” she said.
Sam leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll make it work,” he said. “How do you feel about going out?”
“Out where?” she asked.
“There’s a gallery opening in midtown. A couple of friends are going and have extra tickets. Thought you might be interested.”
