Page 22 of Obey

“Kiss me like I’m someone you just met here in the club that you want to take to bed.”

He doesn’t move, only stares. Not looking away from him takes all I have. The way his eyes capture my attention and don’t let go makes me feel vulnerable, like he’s peering inside my soul to see everything about me.

I lick my lips, his stare flickers for a second, and when his eyes meet mine again they’re even more intense, filled with more heat, more lust, more everything.

Our chests rise and fall together, brushing against each other as we breathe in the silence. What’s holding him back? Indecision?

My body’s being tugged toward him like I’m possessed. Is he going to kiss me?

I don’t know. But I want him to. With every cell in my body I want this man to kiss me.

I almost close the distance. But before I can say another word, or think, or even breathe, his hand cups my throat, my back firm against the wall. His thumb glides across my jaw, sending goosebumps spreading all over my body. He frees my lip from between my teeth, staring me down like a hunter pausing before striking.

“Kiss you like I don’t know how pure you are, you mean?”

Pure. Chaste. Innocent. Ignorant. Whatever word you choose, I feel all of those things right now. My body’s tingling, sensations spreading throughout muscles I’ve never felt before, even while reading the dirtiest scenes in my spicy books.

There’s an ache between my thighs that’s driving me closer to doing something stupid with this strange man in a stranger place.

“Yes.” My voice is breathy, his scent invading my senses. “Kiss me like I’m the woman on the throne. Not the chaste girl on a pedestal.”

He leans closer to me, his thumb sweeping gently back and forth across my bottom lip. “So soft, Talia.”

“Half-Pint.” If he doesn’t use my name, I can’t be reminded of all the things Ishouldbe and instead can be all the things Iwantto be.

He grinds out a dark chuckle as his gaze flickers to my lips and back to my eyes. He doesn’t question why I correct him, he doesn’t hesitate, and he’s not the least bit gentle as his hand tightens around my throat, and he crashes his lips against mine.

There’s nothing soft about this kiss, nothing exploratory or tentative. It’s hungry, demanding, possessive. His tongue spears my lips apart, and my mouth falls open on a gasp. If I thought he might slow down, I was wrong.

There’s no educating in his kiss, only consuming. In this moment, Jagger owns me. Not just my lips, my tongue, my mouth, but all of me. My whole being is being manipulated into giving him every ounce of myself in one kiss. I’m a puppet, and this stranger, this mechanic from the plane is pulling my strings.

His tongue surges between my teeth, digging into my mouth until he finds my tongue and massages it like he’s trying to coax something out of it, a moan, a response, all my lifelong secrets. I have no idea. But he’s not letting up. He tilts my head, his thumb still caressing my jaw.

I’ve never wanted someone’s hand around my throat before. Even reading about it in my books, the ‘hand necklace’ in a lot of stories doesn’t make it sound as arousing and thrilling as having Jagger’s giant hand curled around my fragile neck.

Part of me knows it’s unsafe, and yet, the same part almost feels exhilarated, like I want to push that boundary further, I want his hand to tighten even more. The idea of not being in control of my own breaths is equal parts terrifying and electrifying.

Has he done it before? Choked someone? Controlled the very breath that enters into their lungs? I bet he has.

His teeth clash against mine as his kiss intensifies. Need bubbles under my skin, scorching, pulsing, a hunger so deep I couldn’t reach it even if I tried.

Pressing my thighs together isn’t helping. The heat, the damp between my legs, this pulsing ache... I might die.

When he releases my mouth, my lips are swollen and puffy, tingling from every lick, suck, and nibble Jagger subjected them to. But he’s not finished. He drags his tongue along the length of my jaw before trailing his teeth down the opposite side of my neck to where his hand is.

The scraping of his hard teeth against my soft, sensitive skin makes me shiver. My heavy breaths have turned into moans and whimpers. His dark enticing presence looms over me, caging me against the wall.

I’m a fly in a spider web, stuck, helpless, and staring down my demise with no way of escaping his snare. But I don’t care. He can take me, own me, use me, do whatever he wants to me if he can fix this throbbing hunger between my thighs.

“Please.” It’s a single word, panted out of my exhausted body on a huff of warm air.

“Please, what, Half-Pint?”

“Do something.”

Chapter Nine

JAGGER

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