Page 79 of Ink Deep Devotion

More. More! That’s what she always wanted. More of me, more freedom. More!

Her mouth is like a sword wrapped in silk, safe to the touch until it slices you; tricks you. But then that pain is cradled in the gentleness of its silk walls again.

Again and again. Pain, then healing, restoring, then suffering.

A trap I would fall for time and time again.

Her hands roam over my body, begging me for more. More, more, more.

She was always so greedy.

Spinning her around, using the wall as my weapon to encase her, I grab her hands, trapping them above her head. Her legs shake with a desperate need for my hardness between them. To anchor her and stop her heart from drifting off in those perilous, uncharted waters.

I look down at her parted lips. I want them around my cock; I want her tears dripping down my thighs as I give her every greedy drop she begged for.

But we don’t have time.

This isn’t just about pleasure. It’s a need.

I’m dying, and I need to be inside of her to live, to chase away the words she spoke earlier.

Her eyes meet mine, full of longing and hope, fucking hope as if I could slowly make love to her up against the classroom wall.

No.

Love could never be. She needs to understand that.

“If you want me, this is all you will get,” I warn her, pausing and removing my lips from her heated skin.

“Think, little fox, this is all I can give you. Nothing more or a lot less. Take it or leave it.”

Leave it. Be smart this time. Remember what happened last time you made a deal with me?

Her wide eyes look into mine, searching. She still thinks she can change my mind as she nods.

“It’s a mistake.” You should refuse me.

Fire might keep you warm, but too much can burn you, take everything from you, your shelter and food; it will leave you scarred and starving.

“You will say it one day, Dash.” She murmurs with such hope that it feels like a new day dawning over a war-torn land. Vultures circle as the sun tries to blind them, banishing them far away.

When would she realize my love and hate were the same?

Too late, it seems.

If she is doomed to sink, it will be in my arms, holding her tight, teaching her how to breathe in the unforgiving murky waters.

Keeping her hands pin, I spin her around, pressing her chest against the wall.“Dash,” she moans an angry hiss.

I won’t let her look me in the eye. I can’t; it weakens me too much.

“Are you wet? How bad do you want me inside of you again?” I grab the waist of her leggings and pull them down. They make a satisfying snapping sound as they rest under her round ass.

The whole time she wore these leggings, she wasn’t wearing panties!

Fuck!I groan.

“Do you dream of me, little fox, dream of me hunting you down, pinning you down while I make love to you? That’s what you want, isn’t it? My love entangled with the thrill of my hate?”

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