“That’s fair. You drive me crazier. Say you won’t improvise.”
“I won’t improvise,” I repeat.
“I’ll hold you to that, hellcat.”
He shifts, pressing the length of his hard cock into my thigh.
Looks like we’re done talking.
There’s more to the plan, but for now, Koby’s content, almost calm. But I know he’ll start again tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon, and twice again in the evening.
34
Leilani
Koby’s mouth is everywhere.
On my neck, my shoulder, the swell of my breast, the inside of my thigh. He’s covering me in hickeys, sucking where I demand.
Anton has to believe I’ve been passed around like a bowl of nuts, used and marked up, or he won’t snap the way we need him to.
The more ruined I look when his eyes find me during the auction, the harder it’ll hit him. The smallest scrape on me never failed to send him spiraling throughout the years I spent locked in his apartment. Anything less than flawless skin and Anton got unhinged with worry.
The hickeys will look like bruises by tomorrow evening and Koby’s more than happy to suck a dozen onto my skin.
“Here.” I tap my index finger against a small mark in the dip of my collarbone. “Make this one darker.”
He bites, sucks, and my body jolts. It hurts, but in that thrilling, titillating kind of way that leaves me wanting more. He pulls back, lips wet, wild eyes trained on the bruise as it blooms a darker red. His thumb drags over it, a feral look crossing his face, hair falling over his forehead.
“You have no idea how sexy that is,” he says, lowering his head again. “I love seeing you marked like this.”
“Anton will hate it.”
Koby stiffens, inhaling deeply. “I know why we’re doing this. No need to remind me, hellcat.”
My cheeks flare. Koby’s possessive tone coupled with his hands all over me sends pulsing heat through my veins. I’m so wet it’s shameless. I probably shouldn’t be turned on by this fucked-up ritual, but every scrape of Koby’s teeth, every claim he lays on my skin makes my heart swell.
“Okay, let me see,” I say, climbing off the bed.
He follows me into the bathroom and stands behind me, chest pressed to my back, hands on my hips.
The hickeys are strategically placed. Some I’ll cover badly with concealer, most will remain under my dress. I won’t show them unless there’s no other choice.
Even though I asked for them, even though they have a sole purpose—enraging Anton—they’re a very intimate part of me that I’d rather not share with anyone other than Koby.
He watches me in the mirror, eyes hungry as he scrutinizes his handiwork. My collarbone is dotted with angry splotches, the soft skin under my jaw flared, and my thighs are peppered with throbbing bites of all sizes.
I’m not Anton’s doll anymore.
“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” I ask when Koby’s thumb circles a mark on the apex of my right breast.
He presses a soft kiss to my temple, inhaling a deep, shaky breath. “You have no idea.” He pushes his hips forward, theswell of his cock heavy against my ass. Another kiss lands on my shoulder. “You need one more,” he whispers, closing his lips where he kissed me. “Just one more.”
He’s wasting time on purpose, dreading the night ahead.
We’re supposed to be on the road with Carter, Ryder, and Broadway in less than forty minutes, on our way to Pittsburgh so we’re in position to call Anton tomorrow morning.
An hour later, my suitcase is zipped, my shoes on, but Koby drops to his knees in the hallway, lifts my t-shirt, and plants another dark mark high on my ribs.
