Page 80 of Executing Malice
“Were you always this intense?”
His attention drifts lazily off my lips to find my eyes, leaving the fold tingling.
“Yes.”
I feel my cheeks tug into a grin. “Used condoms in a jar intense?”
His nose bumps mine. “Yes.”
My hands abandon all sense and brush the warm width of his chest. Traces the hard edges of his collarbone. Slide over the muscles of his shoulders.
“How long did that take you?”
“Not long.”
I hear myself chuckle. “How often did you...?”
“Fantasize about filling you up so often our DNAs match?” His lips ghost mine in a feather light skim that rattles the rest of my system. “I never fucking stop.”
I have no memory of him putting the dish aside but his hands are under my top and fisted around my ass cheeks. I’m being pulled to the edge. My legs are spread wider.
His face dips into the side of my neck and he inhales.
“I love the smell of me on you,” he growls into the side of my skin. “My cum on your skin. On your breath. Dripping from both holes. I want to rub it into every inch of you until everyone knows you’re mine.”
That shouldn’t turn me on the way it does. The way it floods my core to pool under me has me shifting restlessly while he sucks and licks his way up my jawline.
I slide my hands up through all those silky strands and fist. I draw his head back to peer into his face.
“What if I don’t remember loving you?”
He captures my bottom lip between his teeth and nips just hard enough to make me wince.
“I’ll remind you. I’ll make you love me again. You have no choice.”
I tighten my fingers until he groans deep in his throat. “You can’t make me do anything.”
The hot inferno from earlier sparks in his eyes. The twisted hunger teetering between madness and pleasure.
“Careful,” he warns. “I’ve been gentle so far.”
Weirdly bold and defiant in a way I’ve never felt before, I arch an eyebrow. “Pussy.”
Fire blooms in his eyes and my insides roar. It fuels something hot and angry in me, something uncontrollable and sick. There is a second heartbeat between my legs that is in full control of this hunger. It’s driving a reckless train off a cliff.
Humming with this new surge of power, I shove him. It’s like trying to swat a bear, but he’s caught off guard enough to fall back a step. Just enough for my hand to close into the handle of the knife from earlier.
I level it with his throat.
He doesn’t bat an eye.
Not a muscle wavers.
He stares into my face with a dare that has me soaked.
“Backup,” I tell him.
“You won’t get far,” he warns.
