“Fuck it.”
His grip tightens on my hair and jaw, and his mouth crashes into mine. He kisses me roughly and desperately, and I reciprocate with equal fervor. A guttural sound tears from him, as if he’s been starving for this for years. God, I feel clumsyand desperate, like I don’t know what I’m doing, but this … this feeling is to die for.
His hands grip my hips, pulling me against him, unable to wait anymore. I wrap my legs around his waist, my breath catching when I feel his cock pressing between my thighs again. It’s big and hard, and it scares me how badly I want it. My panties are already soaked, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide how wet I am for him.
I’ve never done this. I shouldn’t even be letting it get this far, but all I can think about is how it would feel to have him inside me. Stretching me, ruining me, making me his.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he growls against my mouth, his breath hot and ragged. “You’re not going to like where it leads.”
“I do. And I don’t care,” I whisper, clutching at him, my voice shaking but filthy with need. “I want you to ruin me. Hurt me if you have to. Just don’t stop.”
His hand slides between my legs, over my soaked panties and he groans.
“You’re this wet, and I haven’t even touched you properly.”
I grind against his hand without thinking. “I need you inside me. I don’t care if it hurts. I want it to hurt.”
His hand flies to my throat. “Take off my pants.”
My hands shake as I grab the waistband of his sweatpants and pull them down a few inches. His lower abs are cut, veiny, and stupidly hot. I stare, because I can’t not. I’m nervous. My hands are sweating, but I want it.
“Mitch?” Wes’s voice cuts through the air.
Shit.
My stomach drops. I freeze for a second before covering my face like that’ll magically make me disappear.
God, this is fucking humiliating.
Adam doesn’t move or say a word; he only lets out a long, annoyed groan.
“What is it, darling?” Adam says, voice thick with sarcasm as he crosses his arms and turns his back to me.
Wes clicks his tongue, eyes dragging over both of us. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, and lets the silence stretch.
“Boss needs to see you.”
Mitch, Mitch, fucking Mitch …
The name alone is enough to make my stomach twist.
Why does everyone have to call me by that stupid name? How much of an idiot was I to choose it?
Even though … it doesn’t sound so bad coming from her lips.
When Isabella calls me that, the name acquires a different flavor. The way it drags on her lips … God, those lips. I can’t stop thinking about them. Twisting around my name, or around my cock.
Those lips—so full, so goddamn tempting—it’s like they were made to drive me insane. I want to fuck the sweetness outof them, again and again, until she forgets she ever used that mouth for anything but me.
I tried to pull back, tried to play sane, but I’m done pretending. I’m unraveling for her, because of her, and there’s no going back. All that’s left in me now is feral, consuming need, and I want her to taste every second of it.
I want her to see how deep this sickness runs, how far I’ve fallen, and how far I’m willing to drag her down with me.
“You know you just signed your death sentence, right?” Wes interrupts my daydreaming.
“You know how to kill the mood, don’t you?”
“I kill the mood, Calvano will kill you, and we’ll all be happy without you again.” He sneers, his face shining from glee he can’t hide.
