Page 116 of The Cute Psycho

"I didn't stand you up. I didn't even know we were supposed to meet," I breathe out, a little exasperated with current circumstances.

Why does he have to be so reckless? He could have blown the entire thing, and I have no doubt that Marcello would have killed him—and me.

"Fine..." he agrees, but he doesn't seem any happier.

Shaking my head at him, I tug him to the sink, wetting a napkin and cleaning the cake from his face and clothes. All the while he's watching me with an odd expression on his face, as if he can't quite understand me.

His lips are slightly parted, his breath labored as I swipe the cloth over his face. My own skin is covered in goosebumps, awareness of his presence—so close by—prickling from head to toe. My cheeks feel heated, my palms sweaty.

Out of nowhere, his hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, lowering it. Still holding my gaze, he backs me into a corner, his body crowding me until he's fitted to my front.

He's hard.

It's the first thing I feel when he presses himself into me, my own thighs clenching in response.

His fingers brush across my neck, before he grips me in a painful hold, bringing my face close to his.

"You don't stand me up," he rasps, his breath on my lips.

"I don't?" I blink twice, the change in his behavior throwing me off. One moment he looks like a lost puppy, the next he's throwing me against the wall ready to ravish me.

"You're mine, Hell Girl. That means you're only mine." His lips trail over my jaw. "You promised me," he says, his thumb moving up over my lips, parting them.

"I did," I answer, the intensity in his eyes hypnotizing me.

"Say it," he whispers, lightly kissing me on the lips. "Say it."

"I'm yours," I say and he lets out a big breath, as if relieved.

"I'm never letting you go," he rasps, the sound barely audible.

"Did you really have to be so mean with Marcello?" I raise my hand to palm his cheek, my annoyance with him already melting away.

"You're mine," he repeats, leaning down to deepen the kiss before suddenly turning me around, making me brace my hands on the wall.

"Vlad?" I ask, uncertain of what he's about to do.

His hands are skirting around the hem of my dress as he drags it up over my ass.

"We don't have time," I whisper, even though all I want is for him to go on. "He'll come looking for us."

"Just a moment," he says, his voice low and anguished. "I need to know you're mine."

His hand moves past the band of my underwear and between my legs, his fingers dipping low between my lips as he circles my clit. My breath catches in my throat, my eyes closing as I focus on the sensations he's wringing from my body.

"You're so wet, Hell Girl. And all for me," he rasps, his mouth nibbling at my ear.

"Yes," I reply, grinding myself against his hand.

He starts moving faster, his fingers working their magic on my pussy while his mouth is slowly massaging the column of my neck, alternating between sucking, licking and teasing.

In no time, I'm coming, barely holding back my voice as I push my ass into his erection. I sag against him, my body turning to jelly as I ride the last of the orgasm.

"Happy birthday," he whispers.

Turning, I steady myself against the wall, watching as he takes his fingers and licks them clean.

"Better than the cake." His voice sends shivers down my spine, his black eyes holding me captive.

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