Page 122 of Stalker's Toy

Her laughter fills the space around us, echoes off the unfinished walls.

It’s not the reaction I expect, but it’s perfect anyway.

"You think I’m joking?" I ask, lifting one eyebrow, keeping my tone light, but only barely.

"I think you’re serious as hell," she replies, threading her fingers through mine, pulling me into her gravity.

“You’ve had it your way.”

She tilts her head, considers, like she’s seeing me all over again, like she’s seeing us. "And now we’re doing it your way," she says, amused but not denying it.

"It’s the only way," I say, leaving no room for argument, no room for escape.

She presses her lips together, a line of thoughtfulness broken by a smile. "Then I guess we’d better make room for my sketch pads."

"Guess we’d better," I echo, unable to keep the relief out of my voice, unable to keep the fucking joy out of anything.

Her hands find their way around my neck, pulling me down to her level, pulling me into her orbit.

She kisses me, not quite gentle, not quite wild.

"You’re sure you won’t change your mind?" she asks against my lips.

I snort, half laughter, half disbelief. "Never."

I feel the blood rush to my skin, to my cock, to everywhere she wants it to rush.

She knows exactly what she’s doing, knows exactly how to make me feel wild and fucking reckless.

I thought I was the one pushing her, but here she is, turning the tables.

Flipping them like she always does.

I can’t hide my reaction.

I don’t even try.

She sees how hard I am, how fucking ready I am, and it’s exactly what she wanted.

I crush my mouth against hers, devouring her.

"God, I want you," I murmur, the admission hot and raw against her lips.

She bites down, sharp and unexpected, sending a jolt through me, sending me spiraling.

"I know," she breathes, the words like a spark, like a fucking match.

I pull back just enough to see her face, to see the way she looks at me, the way sheowns me. "This is what you wanted, isn’t it?" I ask, my voice barely controlled.

"Maybe," she teases, a glint of something dangerous in her eyes. "Maybe I just like watching you come undone."

"You do this to me," I tell her, and it’s not just an accusation, it’s a confession.

It’s everything I am, wrapped up in five words.

"And you love it," she says again, laughing softly.

Her hand slides down my chest, down my stomach, down to the place she knows will make me crazy.

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