Page 49 of Hero & Villain
I nodded, unable to say anything or do anything else. My brain was officially mush as he leaned closer, and closer, slower than death.
When he licked me across the face, from one cheek, over my eyes and forehead, I gasped and stared at him, bewildered as he flicked his tongue and got a thoughtful look.
He said, “I thought glitter would be gritty, but it’s more greasy than gritty.”
“Greasy, gritty, glitter, what in flaming balls of idiocy was that?” I sputtered, wiping his spit off my face with the back of my hand.
He smiled at me, going for innocent, but I knew a diabolical gleam when I saw one. “You said I could do anything I want with you. Not what you had in mind?”
I was going to kill him. If I’d been holding my stick, I definitely would have skewered him. As it was, I grabbed his shirt and yanked him over so I could glare into his eyes. His expression shifted from delighted to dangerous in less than a blink.
His voice was a low growl. “Let me explain, Pinkie. I fought for you, bled for you, and now you’re looking like dessert. I want to gobble all of you up without leaving a scrap behind. I’m talking about your ridiculous dress. I’m going to light it on fire and burn it off you. Unless you tell me to take you home now.”
I kissed him hard and hungrily. The dress deserved burning, and if he thought I was dessert, he had no idea how he looked in his fluttery pink shorts.
For a beat I was pressing into him, and then the next thing I knew, he was on my reclined seat over me, his weight sinking into my skin, bones, like a full-body hug. His arms were around me, and then his lips broke from my mouth and moved to my throat while I gasped for air.
He felt so good. I ran my greedy hands through his hair, down his neck, tugging on his collar, probably strangling him, but he didn’t seem to mind, just bit my shoulder. No pain. Just eclipsing pleasure that melted my brain and my spine.
I was his, dessert or whatever else he wanted me for, as long as he didn’t stop.
Everywhere he touched me became fiery butterflies, beating under my skin, trying to fly into him and beat inside him until he combusted and burned for me.
His mouth came back to mine, only it was soft kisses this time, languid like we had nowhere to go, not like at any second something horrible would happen. I tried to kiss him harder, but he held me down, taking his time while I struggled, needing more, faster.
“Easy, Princess Pink,” he murmured with a catch in his voice that sent a trail of lightning through me. I lay beneath him, staring into those shadowed eyes while he bit his lower lip. “You’re going to wreck me completely, you know that?”
I swallowed hard and then smiled. “If you don’t kiss me in the next two seconds and never stop, I will absolutely wreck you, your car, and anything else I can get my hands on.”
His smile was fierce, and then he was kissing me- possessive, hungry, thorough. Like I belonged to him and wouldn’t ever touch anyone else again. Safely trapped beneath his weight, muscles, possession.
I drowned, let go of all control and let him hold the weight of the world for me, trusting him like I never trusted anyone.
And then the box in the basement where I kept the feelings stuffed down, deep, broke open, spilling a memory I hadn’t looked at for a long time.
The slate tile pressed against my cheek while the tips of my black patent Mary Janes rested on the gutter.
“Mom!” I cried for the thousandth time, only she couldn’t answer me. I’d heard her hit the ground. I’d heard her gasp break off. I’d heard the tinkle of slate tiles hitting the ground around her.
Finally, someone four stories below me screamed, an ear-piercing shriek as they found the body.
“Get the ladders! She’s still on the roof! We’re coming for you, Daniela. Hang on.”
My grandfather was the first one to pull me off the roof, his eyes dark with rage even as he smiled. “I’ve got you, Princess. You’re mine now.”
“Princess? Daniela? Hey, Princess.” Dirk’s voice brought me back to the car. I was still lying on the reclined seat under a sea of stars, and him, but I couldn’t feel my limbs, and not in a loss of blood flow kind of way.
He lightly slapped my cheeks. “Breathe. Come on, Glitter Force Cupcake. Breathe, or I’m licking your face with my disgusting spit.”
He leaned forward, and I put my hand on his chest, dragging in lungfuls of air.
“I’ll stab you,” I gasped, still struggling for breath.
He grabbed my face, pressing his forehead against mine. “That’s right. No one puts their spit on you without getting stabbed. Damn straight. Also, are you trying to scare me to death, because…” He sputtered and then rolled off me, back to his seat, and pulled it back into an upright position.
I tried to sit up, but my chest still hurt, too tight, too hard to breathe, like I had chunks of glass lodged in there.
“Where are you going?” I asked as he gripped the steering wheel, veins popping up on his hands and arms like he was considering ripping it off the steering column.
