Hooded eyes took in her faint exasperation, hot-pink cheeks, the heaving chest that did things to her tits I salivated over.
My fingers shaped her curves, the tips delving into her softness as I sought patience and calm because she split me in two.
One half wanted to worship and praise.
The other demanded I pin her to the wall, fuck her raw, breed her, fill her full of my seed, make sure she was forever bound to me once I put a child in her?—
“I can’t,” I ground out, fighting my baser urges.
Because she deserved more.
“What?” she mewled.
Gaze dropping to the soft divot between her collarbones, I rumbled, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her French tips riffled through my beard much as the desert wind would a sand dune. My eyes closed again as I delighted in her touch, even when they dug into my ears as she used them like a console, forcing me to act, urging me to do as she bid.
“Stan, you won’t hurt me.”
“That’s what I do,duci.” My smile was barely there. “My creations are poison becauseIam poison.”
She gusted out a breath that had her bangs flying. “And I thoughtIneeded therapy.” Her lips formed an aggravated frown. Then, she grew still. A part of me expected her to jump down, to take off and leave me in the dirt where I belonged. Instead… “But we’ve already established, Stan, that every poison has an antidote.”
Her tone was clinical.
Professorial, almost.
I tilted my head to study her.
“I can be that for you.” She shimmied against me. “Let me. Please, touch me. I’ve never felt anything like this before.”
Her candor almost brought me to my knees. “You’re too pure?—”
Kitty snorted. “You know one bad thing that I’ve done, Stan. It doesn’t stop there. Give me a baseball bat and?—”
Enamored, I kissed her then thrust my tongue between her lips. When she sucked on it, I growled into her mouth as I sampled her taste, breathed her air, and brokered my pleasure for hers.
Her hands retreated to my nape again, fingers meeting at my hairline, bringing me closer to her, as close as I could possibly go.
But her words ruptured the seal on the box that contained the worst parts of my nature.
I tested every inch of her mouth, not satisfied until I’d scoped out the lay of the land and I knew it as well as I knew my own.
These were my lips.
My tongue.
They belonged to my Pandora, but she’d opened the box—they were mine now.
Shewas mine now.
They’d know no other.
She’dknow no other.
I staked a claim in that kiss. One she was entirely in the dark about, but it was a fight for another day. One I looked forward to spiking, to being in the front row for her rage.
As I thought about her petulant declaration that she’d have bitten off the ear of the man who Miguel had killed earlier, I found my hunger stirring to new levels.
