Page 87 of Twisted (Never After)
There aren’t butterflies in my stomach. No soft pitter-patters of flapping wings or gentle flips. Instead, he causes an inferno, raging through my system and disintegrating me.
My fists unclench as his hands grip the sides of my face possessively, both of us no longer able to fight against whatever this is that’s been slowly steeping for the past couple of weeks.
Now it’s pulling us both under, and it feels so good I don’t care if it makes me drown.
I moan into the kiss, my eyelids fluttering closed as his tongue slips against mine, his hands tilting my head like he needs to get deeper, to tastemore. It makes my stomach drop and twist like I’m on a roller coaster, and I sink into his hold, my arms wrapping around his neck, fingers digging into his hair as I try to get as close as possible.
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I know that logically, I should be pulling away. That I should be fighting whatever this is between us and making sure I don’t fall for what I know is just another manipulation.
For a second, Aidan flits through my thoughts, guilt for what I’m doing trying to seep into the moment, but then I remember that he wants nothing to do with me. And to be honest, nothing with Aidan has ever felt likethis. The thought is gone as quickly as it came, the passion coursing through me washing Aidan away like he was written in chalk and not carved on my soul.
Besides, it’s been a while since anything has feltgoodin my life, so as selfish as this might make me, I’m going to grab on with both hands and hold on tight. I’m going to take the temporary respite while I can.
He tilts my face, breaking his lips away and dragging his mouth down the expanse of my neck, his teeth nibbling and sucking on every piece of bare skin he can find.
This doesn’t feel like a one- time thing.
It feels like ownership.
The thought sends a spear of heat through my middle, making my back arch and my body fall further into him.
His hands move from where they were cupping my face, grazing down my sides and causing my breath to stall and goose bumps to prickle beneath the silk of my shirt.
He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer until not a single centimeter is left between us, his cock pressing against my torso, thick andlargeand something that I’m suddenly desperate to feel.
Before I can overthink it, I reach out and run the palm of my hand from the base all the way up, reveling in the way his body stiffens and his breathing stutters from where he’s still nibbling on the crook of my neck.
My pussy throbs, wetness seeping into my black lace thong, and I imagine what he would feel like slipping between my legs. I bet he would split me apart, dominate every single part of me.
Make me feel loved and secure and whole, even if just for the moment.
He groans but moves his own hand in between us, halting my movements and bringing my arm back up to his chest. I ignore the slight stab of rejection I feel when he does, and then he’s spinning me around quickly, lifting me up as he stands until I’m sideways in the air.
I gasp, letting out a small squeal as he maneuvers me exactly how he likes, forcing me to bend over the edge of the coffee table. My elbows ache when they slam into the carved wood, and my knees sink into the purple and gold Persian rug beneath us.
His hand skims up the length of my spine, sensing a shiver racking through me. I lift my head up and am about to turn to look him in the eye, but his palm wraps around the back of my neck and forces me down until my cheek is pressed against the table and my body is supple and open beneath him.
“You aresogoddamn beautiful, do you know that?” he murmurs, his free hand caressing my calf and gliding up slowly, massaging the muscle as he does.
My breathing comes in small puffs of air, delight at his compliment filling up my body and sending warmth through me as his fingers play with the hem of my skirt that fell back down when he moved me to the table. Slowly, painstakingly, he pushes it up until the material is bunched at my hips and the cool air kisses the skin of my ass.
His palm feels strong and rough as he grabs a handful of the cheek, muttering something Italian under his breath and then smoothing across the skin.
He moves then, the thick length of his erection pressing against me and making my body ache for more as he leans his upper half across my back, his lips ghosting across my ear, the heat of his breath sending a shiver down my spine.
“Tell me you like my hands on you, gattina.”
The words soar through my throat and try to tumble off my tongue, but I sink my teeth into my lip, not wanting to give in, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being able to demand everything from me when he’s already got me splayed out and dripping for him like this. Besides, when I rile him up, he likes it. I can tell because even through his pants, his cock stiffens when I don’t do as he asks.
My fingers dig into the wood of the table next to my face, tempering the urge to reach down the front of my bent-over body just to relieve the throbbing ache that’s pulsing between my legs.
I think I might die if he doesn’t touch me soon, but I still don’t want to give in.
Smack.
A sharp sting radiates across my right ass cheek and my teeth bite harder into my lip, the taste of copper flooding my mouth. He smooths over where he just hit, and the anticipation of what he’ll do to me next sends a buzzing through my body, my muscles tensing and butterflies exploding in my stomach, fluttering so intensely it feels like I might fly.
It’s never felt like this before.
