My hands should be shaking as violently as they were the last time AJ told me what he’d do to me if I ever left him, but they’re not. So I scrape my broken fingernails against Rich’s wrist while I melt into the pressure he’s still putting on my throat.
Maybe it’s the weed that makes me lean forward into his hand? It’s the only reason I can justify still wanting a man who’s supposed to terrify me. Especially a man who’s like fire and ice existing as one.
My head lolls to the side, and he reaches behind me, pulling my bra’s band. “This for me?”
I nod with my mouth open. “Uh-huh.”
He smirks, stretching the band away from my back and leaning over me. “Wolford.”
He lets out a hum, then a chuckle that sounds as sexy as that smirk looked. “What that is, baby? Teach me.”
I close my eyes. “Lingerie.”
“That’s what you like?”
I nod. “I…I wore the ugliest bra the first time you saw me like this because I didn’t think you’d see it.”
“You didn’t think I would, or I wasn’t supposed to?”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
He laughs. “Why you care about silly stuff like lingerie, anyway? I liked that other bra too.”
I huff. “Because expensive lingerie makes me feel sexy…even with an ugly bruised rib that won’t heal.”
“Look at me.”
I peel one eye open, then the other until his chiseled face becomes clear.
“I can make you feel sexier than lingerie can. You know that?”
He pulls the band on the bra until it digs deep into my skin and rips. It falls to my waist like somebody took a bolt cutter to a pair of shackles that had been wrapped around my body and snipped them.
Right as I look down to survey what’s left of it, he leans forward and suckles my right nipple into his mouth.
“Ah…” I gasp. “Rich…wai…wait.”
An ugly mewl bursts from the back of my throat and makes him flick his tongue against my angry, puckered nipple.
“Oh my God…” I moan.
He leans over and does the same to the other neglected nipple. I feel the intricacies of every flick, suckle, and slurp, and I can’t do anything but squirm against his hand around my throat.
“Rich…” I whine, digging my nails into his skin.
He pulls away, letting his lips hover over my nipple, then eyeing my skirt, and his eyebrows dip in that way I’m obsessed with because there’s another question dancing at the seam of his lips.
“Just ask me whatever you’re thinking,” I whisper. “Do it.”
“What’d he do to make you feel sexy?”
“Nothing…absolutely nothing. He didn’t believe in doing that.”
He eyes my skirt again. “You mean he didn’t even eat your pussy, baby?”
“Never.”
CHAPTER
