Page 58 of Dare You to Run
I pin her down by her throat and feel the way her pulse jumps. She loves the danger I bring into her life. Her new hunger for pleasure and pain will never be satisfied by anyone but me. I’ll make damn sure of it.
She reaches up and grips my face, urging me closer until our mouths mimic the movements of our bodies. Her mewls echo in my cavernous mouth and I swallow them down. She feeds my mind and body and I don’t think the desire will ever fade.
“Oh shit,” she hisses. “Right there. Harder.”
With a growl I lift her legs, pushing them up wide by her ankles. I slam hard, reaching depths I hadn’t before.
“Yes.” Her eyes close and her neck arches, pushing her head harshly against the hood. “I can feel you everywhere.”
“Because you were molded just for me. We fit together like a lock and key.” I tilt closer and whisper, “My name is etched inside of your pussy. It’s mine.”
Her wails ricochet off the vast space. I yearn to have her between my teeth and draw her breast into my mouth. My teethsink into the tender flesh and her screech pierces my ears. The way her pussy clenches when I do, is all the indication I need to give her more.
I suck brutally hard, practically ripping her nipple right off her tit. And when her nails rip into my scalp, I shoot off like a rocket. Groans and moans and foul words fall from my mouth, and I pump ruthlessly until I’m drained.
Her legs tumble from my grasp and slap the metal beneath us. I rest my forehead against hers and she runs her short nails up and down my spine.
“Do you think it’s possible to know you won’t be able to live without something after just finding it?” she asks.
I push up on my hands and fix my eyes to hers. “Completely.”
It’s a fact I know to be true. Just like I know I’ll be an incomplete man once she’s gone.
TWENTY-THREE
“Why doyou have so many tattoos of skulls and roses and snakes and…and naked, evil women?” I straddle Hendrix, soaking up the warm afternoon sun as we sit out on his deck.
His friends will all be descending on his house soon, so we decided to enjoy some time alone before the madness –and possibly fighting– commences. I say fight, because after returning home from our rendezvous at Hendrix’s shop, he spoke with Malik and found out Danté was the one who pushed Soria to make that stupid dare last night, and I’m still trying to figure out why the guy hates me so much that he’d do anything to drive me away.
I can’t imagine that he’s that pissed over losing darts. There has to be more to it because that just sounds ridiculous and childish. Malik seems to be everyone’s best friend, so maybe he’ll be willing to give me some information and clue me into why Danté’s treating me like I’m Yoko Ono.
“What else am I supposed to get? Rainbows and four leaf clovers and unicorns?”
“No, but maybe something not so doom and gloom.” My fingers ghost over one tattoo in particular between his pecs, tracing the twisting thorns that circle the blade of a dagger.
“Baby,” he says, resting on his elbows and pushing his jet black sunglasses up. “My middle name is doom and gloom. And when that’s all you ever known, you go with what feels like home.”
I examine the grim reaper on his chest that is the most villainous figure I’ve ever seen. The head of Medusa sits on his collarbone, and her snakes crawl up his neck. Melting skulls, rotting roses, black widow spiders and pure malevolence cover his body. All in black, not an ounce of color in sight. They tell the story of a sad, dark, lonely life and I hope I can shed a little light for the short time I’m here.
“Looks like you have an empty spot right here.” I circle my finger over the small space over his heart that remains untouched.
“That’s reserved for something special.”
“And what would that be?” I lean forward and rest my arms on his chest, propping up on my forearms.
“I haven’t found it yet. When I do, I’ll have the perfect place for it.” His face looks so at ease, the strain that lined his forehead the first time I met him has vanished.
At least around me it has.
Hendrix’s hands crush my ass and I move in to kiss him. He tastes like summer sun, ocean and carefree. I want to live wrapped in his warmth and play in his darkness. He’s a complete juxtaposition that seems to only appear for me.
I roll my hips, grinding down on his hardening erection, and his fingers pinch my skin.
“How much time until everyone gets here?” I ask, my lips pressed to his and eyes closed.
“Soon. So we better hurry.” He slides his fingers around and teases the edge of my bikini bottoms.
“Maybe we outta just wait.” I attempt to pull back, but my body slaps against Hendrix’s when he wraps me up.
