Page 12 of Born into Mayhem
Lifting the bottom of my shirt, I wipe the blood away from my nose,feeling a tiny bit of satisfaction when her eyes lower to my still-hard cock and I see the desire in them.
“You bit me,” I growl at her, forcing her greedy eyes back to mine.
She licks her lips. “I broke free,” she corrects. “Like you taught me to.”
Blood still drips from my nose when I hold my forearm out to her, letting her see the teeth marks that fill with blood every time I swipe a hand over it.
“You told me once to never hold back,” she reminds me. “Just be happy I didn’t kick your dick, because you made it a really visible target, and I could’ve easily caused some serious damage.”
I’ve seen Mia kick, the girl has strength, and there’s a lot of force behind her brutal footwork, and the thought of all that rage being directed at my genitals has nausea rising up from the pit of my stomach.
She must see it written all over my face, because she laughs and says, “You’re welcome.”
“I’m not going to thank you when you bit me like a feral animal,” I tell her. “The human mouth is filthy, Mia.”
“Well, I didn’t force you to kiss me, did I?”
I glare at her, torn between wanting to force her to her knees while I teach her a lesson with my cock and wanting to thread my fingers through her hair and bring her into the safety of my arms while I claim that pouty mouth in a hungry kiss like I’ve been dying to for months. In the end, I don’t do either. I stay where I’m at, neither one of us closing the distance.
“Come on,” she finally says, waving me over to the corner. I have a first-aid kit stashed on a shelf, because we’ve needed it on more than one occasion, and she wastes no time digging around for the antiseptic spray and bandages. She hands me some gauze. “Your nose is still bleeding.”
I take it without a word and let her push me down into the chair. Swiping the blood from my upper lip, I ignore the slight trickle that’s still coming out and watch as she cleans the new wound she’s given me. I eye the teeth marks, a perfect print of her mouth now etched onto myskin. It’s fucking up the dagger tattoo I have. Her teeth go right through the fucking blade.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to mark me,streghetta. That’s two scars I’ll be carrying on my body because of you.”
She starts slathering on antibiotic cream while she says, “If I wanted to mark you, Dario, I’d just use my knife to carve my name into your skin.” She puts the last bit of cream on one of her molar prints. “This is nothing but a playful love bite.”
I grin before I can stop it, and I see her returning smile before she hides it by ducking her head and grabbing more gauze. She wraps my arm up, just like how I taught her to, and then starts putting everything away.
“Don’t worry. I don’t have rabies,” she tells me.
“You sure about that? You seemed pretty fucking rabid out there to me.”
She lets her eyes run over me again in a slow, appreciative perusal. “You seemed a little feral yourself.”
“That won’t happen again,” I say. “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” Not sure what else to say, I add, “It’s been a long couple of weeks,” because that seems like a likely excuse.
Throwing the first-aid kit back on the shelf a little harder than necessary, she turns and says, “Yeah, well, sorry you haven’t fucked anyone in fourteen days. Must be a real bitch.”
I don’t bother correcting her. She doesn’t need to know that I haven’t touched another woman since she turned eighteen. It sounds pathetic enough when I admit it to myself, because admitting it makes me think about why exactly I’ve been celibate. The answer is standing right in front of me, complete with an adorably pissed-off face.
“We’re done for the night,” I tell her. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”
“I can just call Feliks,” she starts to say, but I cut her off.
“I said I’ll take you.” I don’t wait for a response. I turn my back on her and head to my room so I can change clothes and grab my boots. Before I leave, I quickly check my face in the bathroom mirror and thensplash some water on it so I don’t look like a guy who just got his ass kicked by a pint-sized girl.
She’s waiting for me by the front door, looking way too smug for my liking.
“What are you hiding from me?” I ask, grabbing my leather jacket and holding it out to her.
“I’m not hiding anything,” she mutters while she slides her arms in and then looks down at herself. “This looks like a goddamn dress, Dario. I don’t need this.”
She starts to take it off, but I grab her arm to stop her. “It’s safer if you wear it,” I say, not bothering to add that I like seeing her in it. I like the way it completely dwarfs her body, ensuring she’s completely cocooned in my scent.
“Whatever you say, but if you’re that shitty at handling your bike, maybe I should just call Sasha to come get me.”
I refuse to let her get to me, so I ignore the jab to my pride and open the door to follow her out. My motorcycle is a beast of a machine, and this will be my first time letting a woman ride on the back of it. I’ve brought Mia home before, but I’ve always used my Porsche to do it. Is it pathetic to use my bike as an excuse to feel her body pressed against mine? Maybe, but I’m doing it anyway.
