Page 55 of Twisted Fate

Pulling her against me, I kiss her. Her lips are lush and full, and the little whimper she makes is so fucking sexy.

“I want you naked,” I say against her mouth, my hands gathering the flowing material of her dress, dragging it up her body, over her head. I step back and admire the way she looks standing there in her panties and bra. I turn her so her back is to me and unhook her bra, peeling it down her arms.

Her breathing speeds up.

I curl my fingers into the top of her panties and slide them down her legs, those endless, perfect legs, taking my time, skimming my fingers along her skin. I lift one foot then the other, pulling her panties free. Then I step back and walk a slow circle around her to admire the view.

“Fucking perfect, that’s what you are,” I say, my voice rough.

She wets her lips, swollen from my kisses, her gaze flashing to mine. Her pupils are dilated, her irises only a thin rim of blue. I stroke first one nipple, then the other, pink and swollen. Again, she makes that soft whimper.

Blood rushes to my cock. I’m hard as steel just looking at her.

I move to stand behind her, dragging my palm along the indent of her waist, the flare of her hip, the curve of her ass, her skin so soft and smooth.

Without warning, I spank her ass. She gasps and shifts foot to foot but makes no protest. My slap left a faint pink mark. My mark. A primitive part of me howls. Mine.

I imagine keeping her, never letting her go, tattooing my mark in her skin. Tattooing her mark in mine. My cock gets even harder.

Yeah, I’m a fucking Neanderthal.

I cup her breasts from behind, rolling her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, pinching them lightly, then harder. With a whimper, she arches into my touch and pushes her ass against my rock-hard cock, wriggling against me.

“Bad girl,” I murmur and slap her ass again. She gasps but still doesn’t protest. “You like that?” I ask, my lips against her ear.

“I don’t know,” she whispers, pauses, then says, “Maybe?”

I knead the swell of her ass and from the way she hums softly, I think her maybe might be leaning toward a yes.

I turn her to face me and kiss her lush mouth, her pale neck, the curve of her collarbone, then I lower my head, sucking first on one nipple, then the other, leaving them wet. I’m gentle, using almost no pressure. Then I suck harder, use my tongue, my teeth. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as she makes a low sound of pleasure.

That sound is like a velvet stroke on my cock.

I slide my fingers between her legs and find her wet and ready. Then, eyes locked on hers, I bring my fingers to her lips, push them into her mouth.

“Suck,” I order. “Taste how much you want me.”

She sucks and my cock presses against my zipper, so hard it hurts.

“I’m going to make you come with my tongue on your clit and my finger in your ass.”

She makes an inarticulate sound, half whimper, half groan. I pull my fingers from her mouth.

“Would you like that, Alina?” I want no misunderstandings between us. I want to claim every part of her, own every part of her, and I want her consent. I want her to want it. I want her to need it, to need me like she needs air.

“Don’t make me—” She shakes her head.

“Don’t make you what? Don’t make you do it? Don’t make you want it? Don’t make you say it?”

She wets her lips. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Oh, but you have to, pretty girl. It’s the only way. Would you like my tongue on your clit and my finger in your ass, Alina?”

A heartbeat. Two. But of course I know the answer before she speaks. I’ve known her answer since the first second I saw her.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice low, the word torn from her.

My mouth crashes down on hers, my kiss rough, demanding, my tongue pushing past the seam of her lips. I lower her to the bed, my weight full atop her, my hips pinning her. She kisses me back, frantic, desperate, writhing beneath me, her hands tangled in my hair.

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