Page 82 of Pretend
He narrows his brows, his pointed nose scrunching, and then relaxes as I argue back.
I won’t stand for this.
“Why are you so upset, anyway? You’re with Guerra right now, aren’t you? You were the one who said we couldn’t do this. We can’t be together in any form, remember? I can lose my job.Youcan lose your job,” I point to his chest, stepping forward. “You can get thrown off the team. I am free to do whatever I want.” I poke his massive chest. “You are free to do whatever you want. You can’t just show up out of nowhere and hover over me like I’m…like I’m…” I stutter, trying to find the words.
“Like you’re what?” He steps closer to me as I stare up at him like he’s challenging me to overstep and push my limits and get off on it.
“Like I’m your problem.” My voice is lethal.
“You are my fucking problem.” He argues back, his breathing elevates.
“What?” I shake my head, confused, taking a step back, creating some distance between us because I’m scared of what I’m feeling. Something about him is messing with my brain chemistry.
“I don’t like what I see. Your stepfather knows about your stalker problem. He wants you back in your room before 0100 hours. I’m sorry, but it’s past curfew. Kane knows about it, but he’s being nice. But me? I have no fucking problem being the bad guy.” He snarls, closing the distance again, taking my breath away.
“He put a fucking curfew on me? You told him about my stalker?” I shout, my voice high-pitched.
Oh, now I’m pissed.
“I’m not a fucking child Hannibal. I don’t listen to Ravenmore.”
“Your mother told him, actually. If I have to throw you over my shoulders and carry you out of this building, then that’s what I’ll do.” He hisses under his breath, the music outside getting louder and louder.
There’s a hint of beer in his breath, mixed with cigarettes.
Minty. Masculine. Woodsy. Completely hypnotizing.
Still, I hold my ground even though his presence always sends me into a daze.
“Why? I’m having a good time with Zeke, and we’re on a date.” My eyes narrow in defiance.
His grey eyes darken, and the scars on his eyebrows flinch when he hears me defy him.
“You call this a date?” His tone is envious, and he smiles, but it’s anything but happy.
“Yes…it’s what we got, and I’ll take it over staying in my bedroom trapped alone for the night. What would you know about dates anyway? You told me you don’t believe love exists, remember?”
“You don’t need to love someone to take them on a date.” He breathes slowly. His body goes rigid as his vision pinballs from my eyes, my lips, and then my chest.
“Really? Why is that?” I challenge back, daring him to open up to me and daring my so-called bodyguard to talk more than just a few sentences and give me a piece of his personal life. “Tell me why being out tonight with Zeke isn’t a date,” I argue.
His eyes crinkle with a sinful, dark smile. He takes one more step, hovering over me, and I lick my lips nervously. He laughs deep and low, slowly, like he’s ready to do something I’m unsure of. It’s like he’s about to snap me in half.
He leans into my ear, rubbing his chin, his lips grazing my ear as he whispers, “Because a date with me usually ends with the girl screaming my name, my hands in her hair, her ass cheeks raw from spanking her so hard. Her jaw and throat sore and bruised from gagging on my cock all night long…until she’s crying pretty little tears for me and I lick them away as I’m filling her insides.” He whispers darkly into my ear, and it’s seducing. My narrowed brows relax, and my eyes widen instead. A sensation in between my legs goes haywire. Then he retracts from my ear. Getting so close to my mouth, teasing me. It’s like he’s about to kiss me but doesn’t. “Because I’m addicted to the art that is making women come, Alessia. There are so many ways to do it. I desire to break women until they’re screaming my name, women that beg me to—making women come hard over and over again. I like to make them bleed for me. It makes me so fucking hard to see my come drip off their chin after I finish on their face, and I push it back into their mouths, making them choke on it. I like making their cunts weep until they’re dripping down their thighs, begging for me to fuck their ass too.”
I flush red hot with his admission.
“That’s what my dates consist of, baby girl. It has nothing to do with love and everything to do with lust. I love to fuck, and lust to come.”
I’m tired of this push-and-pull game with him. I won’t let him win. I will show him that two can play this game.
So I challenge him, smirking innocently as the dare leaves my tongue. “Then I guess I need to explore what Zeke’s version of a date is at the end of tonight…maybe it’ll match up with yours.”
He stiffens like he’s in utter shock. He pauses, as do I, but it’s short-lived just as I watch his nostrils tick and his jaw setting so tight, I can hear his teeth grind. He goes quiet. No words come out of him, and I know I just won the argument.
I cross my arms in victory, pushing my breasts together unintentionally, and his death stare changes direction from my soul to my breasts. I grab the beer from his hands and start to walk past him. I don’t make it one more inch.
He shakes his head with a sinful smirk, and faster than I can register or protest, Daegan grabs my arm, lifting me into the air, throwing me over his shoulder, and thunders out of the corner we’re in.
