“No.”
He chuckles, and I smile against the fabric. “Liar.”
“I like you here. Inside me.”
He stills, and I wish I could take the words back.
A solemn sigh leaves him. “I don’t do pillow talk, Little Toy.”
“I beg to differ,” I quip back, and a roar of laughter erupts from him. Then he does the unthinkable. He pulls away from me, taking his warmth, his weight, and his aura with him, and I already dread the sound of the door clicking shut behind him.
But he tucks an arm under his head and rests against the only pillow remaining at the headboard. He’s on display to me—every inch of his perfectly crafted body.
Before I second-guess it, I sit up and face him, then use my forefinger to trace his abs and the sculpted V leading to his thick cock while my eyes eat up his array of tattoos.
“Are you going to clean my cock for me, Little Toy?”
His cock twitches, and as inviting as it looks, I shake my head and chew on my lip. Then I continue trailing over his ridges. “In a minute, I want to explore you first.”
He sighs but relaxes against the mattress, and it’s not lost on me that this is the calmest he’s been in my presence.
I swirl my finger over the bullet wounds and caress his scars, and I press the tip of my finger firmer against his ink, rejoicing in the way his eyes soften against my touch.
As I find my way up to his neck, I circle his Adam’s apple, and he watches me from beneath his thick lashes, my heart pounding along the way.
Softly, I follow the line of the scar on his face. It slashesacross his cheek, and I hate the fact that someone wanted to maim him so viciously.
“My father did it.”
My finger stills.
“He wasn’t happy that his favorite whore called me handsome.” His lip twitches as if he finds his words amusing.
Inside, I’m bubbling. His father did this? To his own son? He’s truly an animal.
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
A bolt of horror slams into me. “Thirteen?”
A villainous smile slowly spreads over his face, making him look somewhat deranged yet handsome at the same time.
“It’s not my fault if the whores preferred me.” He shrugs, and his words curdle my stomach.
“You slept with women at thirteen?”
“I wouldn’t call it sleeping. We fucked. I’ve never slept with a woman.”
“You’re probably scared she’s going to cut you in the night,” I bite out, unimpressed by his amusement. “And this isn’t funny, Azrael. That’s child abuse.”
He rolls his eyes.
“I’m serious. You can’t be okay with that.”
His body coils beneath me. “I never said I was.” He clenches his teeth, and his glare is a warning.
I opt to change the subject, hoping I don’t push him away like previous nights.
