“Huh.” I bite my lip. My gaze sliding back up the curves until I meet her turbulent stare.
“Fighting gets your pussy wet.” It’s a statement. The evidence is in my face, not to mention seductively scenting the air, making my dick push against my jeans.
Grip tightening for the briefest second, I fling the chair, not bothering to turn when I hear it splintering against the wall.
Before she can react, I manacle her neck, shoving her hard against the door.
“Don’t try shit.” I kick her legs open wider, stepping between them, erasing the space between us.
Our size difference is more pronounced standing this close. Yet, I feel every curve I come in contact with melting into my body. She hates me. Hell, the feeling is more than mutual, but our bodies don’t care, and I couldn’t give a damn right now either.
Looking down at the cluster of locs piled high on the top of her head, I’m captured not for the first time by the intricate pattern of her tresses. Reaching for the knot, I tug, fascinated, watching the soft strands unravel and cascade down her body.
I catch the scent of the vanilla-rose, curious about how she managed to procure the scent. Closing my eyes, I inhale, savoring the bouquet mixed with the essence that is uniquely hers.
Absently, I register her little fists pushing and battering my sides.
“Get off.” She demands, squirming against me in a fruitless attempt to move me. “Ki te'm yon repo.”
“Nah, lil’mama, I’m never leaving you alone. We’re way past that. It’s obvious you need a good fucking. What kind of man would I be if I let you go without your needs being met?” I whisper down into the bounty of locs hiding her face from me.
“Call Oz.” She dares.
“Sure, and after I cut his fucking head off, I’ll fuck you while his body twitches, bleeding out on the floor beside us.” Tightening my grip, I tilt her head up so that she’s forced to meet my gaze.
I regret it the moment I look down into the bruised brown orbs. Hurt and disappointment spiral in her gaze.
Looking away from her condemnation, my jaw ticks, anger flaring harder and higher than ever before.
“You can’t beat him. If you could, he would be dead.” She scoffs, all emotion wiped away except the newfound hate she has for me. “Unlike you, he doesn’t need to force anyone.” She smirks with fake pity.
“Oh, yeah?” My eyebrow lifts as I accept her challenge.
Slipping my hand between our bodies, letting my palm slide down the sweat-slickened plushness of her belly. I watch her eyes flare. “You think I have to take what’s already mine?”
Spearing my fingers into the soft curls drenched for me, I ask, hearing the guttural rasp in my voice. “What’s always been mine?”
Gaze never leaving hers, I stroke through the thick curls, keeping my touch gentle as I graze her plump lips.
“Damn this motherfucker’s fat, mi vida.” Groaning, I’m captivated by the way she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. The frantic dart of her eyes makes emotion kick in my chest. It’s nothing soft. Her reaction, like she’s never been touched before, ignites a lust inside that takes everything in me to reign in.
She’s soaked for me. “Yeah, you hate me touching you,” I mutter, easing two fingers between her pussy lips, capturing her turgid clit that’s already hard and ready for my attention. “You really hate a trafficking pendego touching this pretty ass pussy, huh?” Hearing the need in my voice makes the cruelty of my words almost laughable, but my reaction to this little troublemaker ain’t fucking funny.
“Fuck you.” Moaning the words and canting her nips into my hand does little to deter me. I honestly don’t know if I’ll stop — if I can. This has gone too far.
Playing with her pussy becomes my mission. Making her cry out in pleasure with my touch is my ministry, and like any good saint, I take my work seriously.
“Fuck my fingers, Saban,’’ I demand, trapping the little hardness between my fingers. She’s slippery and wet, coating my fingers beautifully.
“Non.” Making a liar out of herself, pumping her hips in time with my fingers as she comes. Trapping her bottom lip between her teeth, she tries so hard to keep quiet as the orgasm I’m giving her makes her pussy slicker, wetter and ready for me.
I tighten the grip I have on her neck, tsking. “Such a fucking liar.”
Shaking my head at her in mock disappointment. “Thought I raised you better,” I snarl, watching as her expression crumbles in defeat.
I feel the biting fire on the same cheek she scratched earlier, not noticing she’s worked her hand free to smack me.
Snatching her up before she gets anymore bright ideas, I hoist her over my shoulder, smacking her ass hard a quick succession of slaps as I pivot, striding over to the bed.
