Page 29 of Pretty When He Bleeds

His response is a broken moan, and I grind into him harder, my hands sliding down to grip his hips and hold him in place. My fingers dig in, feeling the sharp cut of his v-line beneath my palms, but then—fuck.

I freeze for half a second, dragging my hand lower and pulling up his shirt. Just slightly above his V-line, two small silver bars gleam against his flushed skin on either side of his hips.

“Hot as fuck,” I comment, my voice is rough with the need to ruin him.

His breath hitches, his entire body going rigid. I drag a finger along one of them, feeling the way his muscles twitch, and his hands fly to my wrists like he wants to stop me but can’t.

“Your cock pierced too, Hotshot?” I ask, my own traitorous dick twitching against the seam of my jeans, and he smirks but shakes his head.

“Not yet,” he says and I laugh as I roll my hips into him, watching his smirk falter just slightly.Not yet.

“Yeah?” I murmur, dragging my fingers along the silver bars again, watching the way his breath shudders out of him. “What, you waiting for a special occasion?”

Roman’s smirk twitches, his grip tightening on my wrists. “Waiting for someone who can handle it.”

Fuck.

That shouldn’t turn me on. It shouldn’t send a fresh wave of heat crashing through me, shouldn’t make my grip on his hips tighten like I’m about to leave bruises to match the marks already on his skin.

I grin, dragging my fingers down his stomach until they reach those damn hip piercings again. I flick one, just to feel him twitch, just to hear that quiet, breathless moan slip from his throat.

His fingers tighten on me, his hips jerking up to grind against my thigh, and my stomach fucking flips. Drawing my hand toward his neck, I run my thumb over the mark I left and smirk. “You’re so fucking pretty when you bleed for me.”

Roman shudders under my touch, his chest rising and falling like he’s trying to catch a breath that won’t come. His lips are parted, his cheeks flushed, and for a second, I forget how much I hate him. How much I’msupposedto hate him.

“Fuck you,” he breathes, but there’s no bite behind the words, just heat.

I smirk, leaning in closer so my lips are just brushing his ear. “You’re already trying. Your body says yes even when your mouth says no,” I murmur, pressing my knee between his legs and feeling his dick straining against his jeans. “Pretty little liar.”

His breath catches, and the sound is enough to make my control slip. I press my thumb harder against the mark on his shoulder, the faint smear of blood still visible, and he tilts his head like he’s offering himself up.

“You’re not allowed to bleed for anyone but me,” I growl, the words coming out before I can think, but I don’t take them back.

Roman’s body stiffens, his eyes snapping open to meet mine. There’s a flicker of shock and anger in his eyes—but it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the same reckless heat that’s been driving this entire fucked-up moment.

“Is that so?” he breathes, his voice shaking but not with fear.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “No one else gets to make you bleed.”

His lips part, but no words come out. His breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stares at me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m serious. My free hand moves to his jaw and I make the decision for him when I devour his lips again, my tongue sliding against his until he’s gasping for air.

I press him harder against the wall, grinding against him like I can’t get close enough, like I need him to feel just how badly I want him, too. He moans into my mouth, and I swallow the sound greedily, my fingers tightening in his hair.

I should stop. IknowI should stop. But the way he moves against me and the way he melts into my touch makes it impossible to let go.

It’s not until we hear voices nearby—someone leaving the party, laughing and shouting—that we finally pull apart completely.

Roman’s eyes are wide, his lips parted as he stares at me like he doesn’t know what the fuck just happened. I take a step back, my chest heaving and my hands curling into fists at my sides to keep from reaching for him again.

“Damon,” he breathes.

“Don’t,” I cut him off, shaking my head. “Don’t fucking say my name like that.”

He actually looks confused. “Like what?”

“Like it fucking means something to you!” I snap, my voice harsher than I intend.

He flinches, and for a second, I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet. But I can’t deal with this right now.

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