Page 33 of First Verse

I squirm, an uncomfortable emptiness taking up residence between my legs. His other hand plays with my breasts lazily, but I can’t focus on his touch because I’m fixated on his cock. I wish his hand were my mouth. I want to roll my tongue over the silver balls and taste them. Tastehim.

But when I try to rise, to reach for him, his hand plants on my chest. “That’s not on the menu.”

“You don’t want a blowjob? Who are you?”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t look at me as he begins to tease my nipples again until my breaths turn to pants and I’m making small, needy sounds. His too-perceptive eyes lift to mine.

Shaking his head, hetskssoftly. “How many men have tried and failed to read your music? How many have left you unsatisfied?”

The words rattle me, but they anger me, too. If he thinks I’m the same girl he shocked in his childhood bedroom, he’s about to find out that I abandoned her on the floor where we used to write songs.

Stretching my arms over my head, I fake a yawn. “Sorry to break it to you, but you’re not special. I’m one of those lucky girls who gets off easily.” I nod at his hand, still working over his shaft. “Are you going to do something with that or just wave it in my face?”

For two absolutely perfect seconds, he stares at me in shock. Then he laughs. It’s not a nice sound, though, but a sinister chuckle.

“You’re such a fucking liar.”

I glare at him, but he only smiles slightly and reaches for the condom. He tears it open and rolls it on with brisk efficiency.

Don’t think about how many women have watched him do this. Don’t think about it…

Too late.

I grimace, my eyes closing.

Hands grab my face. My eyes snap open as he covers me with his body, blanketing me with heat. The tip of his nose touches mine, his eyes so close I can count the freckles like stars in an alien sky. I grab his forearms for stability because it suddenly feels like I’m plummeting down from space.

“No,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my mouth. “You stay right here. It’s just us. You and me. Like it’s supposed to be.”

My body goes rigid. “You can’t have it both ways. And you’re not a hero, remember? So stop acting like one. Either fuck me or get the fuck out.”

An emotion crosses his face too swiftly for me to name, but it bounces in my chest like I’m an empty chamber. Heavy and hard.

His jaw clenches. “You want me to treat you like them? Fuck you like I don’t give a shit about you?”

No.

“Yes.”

He bares his teeth. “Fine.”

I yelp in surprise as he flips me onto my stomach. My hips are wrenched into the air. His knees bump mine apart. My hair is gathered, spiraled into a chord, and yanked until my spine bows. He shoves two fingers inside me and pumps hard.

“Fucking dripping.”

He says it like it’s a curse, like he’s angry my body likes his aggressive handling. I’m a little confused myself, but there’s no time to think about it because the head of his cock drags over my center. Up and down, up and down.

“If it’s too much, tap my thigh,” he growls.

“Wh—”

The rest of my question is lost—I’m lost—as he slams inside me with one brutal thrust.

CHAPTERTWELVE

evangeline

I spent years describing love

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