Page 39 of Born into Madness
Her curious fingers continue exploring, tracing the skull tattoo on my neck before dipping low enough to graze right below my shirt. The hard length of me presses against my jeans, demanding to be let out for the first time in my life, leaving me stunned and more than a little in awe of this red-haired woman who’s so easily flipped my entire world around. I briefly think about pulling my shirt off and letting her see every inch of my tattooed skin, baring every part of myself to her, but I don’t. Justlike my mask, I keep it on for now, not wanting to scare her away.
Her hand drifts lower, staying on top of my shirt as she trails a line across my chest and then dances her fingers along my bicep.
“Jesus,” she whispers. “Is there any part of you that isn’t hard as a rock?”
The corner of my mouth curls into a grin when I say, “Nope.”
Her face heats up when she realizes what she’s said, and her eyes drift to the other part of me that’s rock-fucking-hard at the moment. She sucks in a breath, the sight of me raring to go seems to slam her back into reality, because she quickly takes a step back and shakes her head.
“I’m sorry,” she says, refusing to look at me.
“For?” I ask, stepping closer because I’ve decided I don’t like distance between us.
“I can’t do this.” She waves a hand between us for me to fill in the gaps of what she’s not saying.
“Can’t do what?” I ask anyway.
“You know,” she starts and then waves her hand again. When I grin, she sighs and says, “I’ve never done anything like this before. I can’t have sex with you just because you’re built like a god and your smile is amazing and you like my hair. I just can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
I’m still grinning when I ask, “You think I’m built like a god?”
She lets out a soft laugh before she can stop it. “Yes, but that’s beside the point. You also have one hell of a jawline, and your hands are incredibly sexy.”
I hold them up, eyeing the tanned skin, the tattoos that cover them, and the veins that run along them and up my wrists before disappearing under the sleeves of my shirt. I’ve never thought of my hands as being sexy. They’ve always been more like useful tools to me, the things that allow me to have fun with a knife,but she’s eyeing them like she wants to know what they feel like sliding up her thighs, like she wants to see them disappearing underneath that pretty dress she wore just for me.
She finally pulls her eyes away and says again, “I’m sorry.”
Leaning down, I fist her hair again and bring it to my face, breathing in the scent of her while the soft strands fall against my skin.
“I’m not,” I say, “and stop apologizing to me, my little Cyn, because Iwillhave you. Whether it’s today or a year from now makes no difference to me.”
“What?”
Her breathy, one-word question hangs in the air while I take in another lungful of her before fisting the thick strands and tilting her head back. She’s so much shorter than me, but I bend down enough so our faces are together, nothing but a mere inch between her lips and mine.
“I said you’re mine,krovinka. I will wait for you, but I won’t leave you alone.”
“You’re crazy,” she starts to say, but when she sees the sneer I give her, she stops.
“I really don’t like labels, Cyn.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I lean closer, letting my lips brush against her cheek. “You don’t ever need to apologize to me. Like I said, Iwillhave you.”
“Why do you want me?” She gives the barest hint of a head shake, pressing her cheek harder against my lips, so I kiss it and cup the back of her head while her hair spills around my fingers. My lips trail a line to her mouth, and when I reach the corner of it, I tell her the truth.
“Because you’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted.”
I feel the heat from the disbelieving laugh she gives against my mouth, but I ignore it, because I’m about to have my first honest-to-god kiss, and I don’t want to miss a single detail ofit. Her soft laugh turns into an even softer gasp when I cup her face and kiss the corner of her mouth again, slowly making my way along her top lip. She holds still for me, letting me take my time. Her lips are soft and sweet tasting, and when I suck the bottom one into my mouth and she feels my tongue roll over her plump flesh, she lets out another whimper. It clouds my mind, distracting me from everything that’s not her. Nothing else exists in this moment except mykrovinka, my little Cyn, the woman who’s going to bring me to my knees.
The palm of my hand is wet with blood, the cut still dripping even if it has slowed down. The red smears her face, marking her as she meets my eyes and then flicks my lip with her tongue. The sensation pushes me over the edge, igniting a hunger for her inside me that feels limitless. With a groan, I deepen the kiss, sucking on first her top lip and then the bottom, experimenting as I go and discovering what I like and what makes her moan and lean harder into me. When I bring my bloody thumb between us, sliding it into her mouth as my tongue strokes hers, she lets out the cutest growl, like a feral, little kitten, before she latches onto me, sucking my thumb in a way that has my cock throbbing like it never has before.
Her hands reach up, latching around my neck as she pulls me closer. Her fingers find my hair, threading into what’s sticking out from my mask, and when she starts to tug, I grin against her hungry kiss before pulling back.
“Jesus,” I groan when I see the look she’s giving me. It’s one of pure, raw hunger—lips swollen and slightly bloody from my cut, pupils completely blown, and heavy breathing that has nothing to do with constricted airways.
Cyn is beautiful to me no matter what she’s doing, but when she’s aroused, goddamn, she’s a work of art.
