Page 171 of The Ruthless Note

I’ll never be the same after tonight.

My bones, to my very DNA will bear the mark of Dutch’s touch.

I try to scrape my fingers down his shoulder, try to tug his hair, try to leave any marks on him that I can, just to give back what he’s giving to me.

But my punishment feels way less severe as he ravages me, torments me, makes me wantmoreeven as I grapple with the fact that I might be incapable of handling this much.

“Du-tch!” I scream. I don’t have a single fight left. Crying out his name, I surrender at the most primal level.

And this time, the explosion that wracks me makes my body snap,hard.

I’m detonating like illegal fireworks as Dutch keeps working me through the unravelling, hurtling me to the edge of another blast before I’ve managed to survive the first one.

My eyes are filled with tears. His are filled with glorious ambergreed. To own me. To have me completely.

Breath caught in my chest, I moan. “I need to feel you.”

Dutch straightens and licks his lips. His eyes are bright, almost feverish when he looks down at me.

“Not yet.” He grabs my chest in his mouth again, leaving another hot, bruising mark on my skin. I’m already vibrating with heat and the mere flick of his tongue sends my head snapping up.

I’m left wanting more and he knows it. His glowing amber eyes tell me I only have to do one thing.

Silence falls. Stretches. Pulls taut.

I both hate and crave him as he waits for me to say it.

I swallow hard, my heart pounding. Nothing makes sense anymore.

Nothing except that I’m ready.

“Now,” I whisper.

His chuckle is dark and makes me want to smack him in the face. “Are you sure you’re ready, Brahms?”

A rogue whimper escapes me when he teases me with his fingers again. I feel a sharpening ache in my body, a tightness that winds me to the brink.

“Are you sure?” Dutch asks me. His face is flushed, his hair sticking up from where I grabbed it.

My first time.

My V-card.

The person offering to pop my cherry is a damaged beast who wants to own me.

He’s Dutch freaking Cross.

And I hate him.

I hate that he’s so smug.

I hate how my body responds to him.

I hate that he’s consistently been there for me, saving me, rescuing me when I needed someone but couldn’t ask.

And I can’t hold back anymore.

I want more.

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