Page 54 of Daddy By Design

That mouth on me again.

“Hellcat. You dig in any deeper and you’ll take a chunk of me.”

I scraped my nails along his scalp and tugged his hair. “You like it. I can see it.” I rubbed against the obvious hardness between us. “I can feel it.”

He lifted me up on my toes, then he detangled our fingers to grip my ass. “Is that what you really want?”

My blood roared in my head as I scraped my teeth over his lower lip. “Pretty sure yes is in neon over my head.”

His rough fingers scored up my forearm, and I hissed.

“Fuck.” His eyes were wild, but he was shutting down. “You’re still banged up.”

“No. I’m fine.” I held onto him, suddenly afraid he’d push me away. “They’re just scratches.”

“They’re more than that, Hellcat. I know what it’s like?—”

He cut himself off. He knew all too well what pain was like. It was as obvious as the charged air between us. He was shutting down. I didn’t know him that well, but I’d been around him at his worst twice before. His self-preservation instinct was like a bramble-covered wall.

I needed to climb over it or hack at it with something. I hooked my arm around his shoulder and held on tight. “I’m not a fragile girl. I want this.” The air practically crackled as his gaze bounced from my mouth to my eyes and back again.

I cupped the back of his head, and the pinch of my nails made him groan.

“I want this,” I said again.

His fingers dug into my ass again. I could see the war inside of him. In the tightness of every muscle, in the flare of his nostrils. Hell, I could hear him grinding his damn molars.

It wasn’t that serious.

Or was it?

I nipped at his chin. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one. Not when I can feel that hard cock between us.”

His eyes dilated.

My other hand coasted down his side and slithered between us and cupped him. “This doesn’t lie.”

“I’m not a slave to my goddamn cock.” The words were little more than a growl between his gritted teeth.

“Maybe I want to be.” The thrill of it made me far more bold than I’d been—ever.

“Fuck.”

My lips twitched. “I keep telling you, yes, please.”

I slipped my arm free from his shoulder and slowly, I sunk to my knees. My nails dug into his belly and under the hem of his shirt to all those glorious muscles underneath.

He tipped his head back as I went for his buckle.

His fingers gripped mine. The warmth of his skin was right there. The coarse hair above his belt burned the back of my fingers “Dahlia. I can’t.”

I gazed up at him. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

His jaw was pure granite, indecision painting a suddenly gruesome tale on his face. “It’s been a long time.”

Suddenly, the story behind of all his scars made me wonder. “Sure feels like everything is in working order under this zipper.”

“You don’t want to see what’s under these clothes. It ain’t pretty.” His voice was gruff with…shame?

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