Page 16 of Cipher's Baby Girl
“Oh, Baby Girl, what you do to me.” The confession falls from his lips like a strangled growl. Then his mouth is on mine, and the world dissolves around us.
The kiss is gentle at first, almost hesitant—a question rather than a demand. His lips are softer than I expected, a contrast to the hard edges of the rest of him. My first kiss. The sensation is so new, so overwhelming that for a moment I freeze, unsure how to respond.
Sensing my uncertainty, he begins to pull back, but instinct drives me forward, my hand coming up to grip his t-shirt, keeping him close. Something like a growl rumbles in his chest as he deepens the kiss, his hand tightening in my hair.
Heat floods my body, pooling low in my abdomen and sparking a need so all-consuming it frightens me. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for him without hesitation, eager to taste more of him, to experience everything this powerful man is offering.
His other arm wraps around my waist as he sinks into a chair, pulling me against him and onto his lap. The new position brings us flush against each other, his muscled chest hard against my softer curves. Through the thin fabric of my dress, I can feel the heat of him, the solid strength of his thighs beneath mine.
The kiss turns hungrier, more demanding, his hand sliding up my back to cradle my head as he devours my mouth with a passion that leaves me breathless. I'm drowning in sensation, my body responding in ways I've never experienced—my nipples tightening, a throbbing heat building between my thighs.
My inexperienced hands explore tentatively, tracing the hard planes of his chest, feeling the tension in his shoulders. When my fingers brush against the side of his neck, encountering the raised edge of what feels like a scar, he shudders beneath me.
Emboldened, I let my hand slide higher, into his hair, loosening the tight ponytail until dark strands fall around his face. He makes a sound against my mouth—half groan, half warning—that sends electricity racing down my spine.
"Cipher," I whisper against his lips, the name a plea though I'm not sure what I'm begging for.
His response is to kiss me harder, one hand sliding down to grip my hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh with restrained strength. The slight pain mingles with pleasure, intensifyingeverything. His beard stubble scrapes gently against my skin, the sensation thrilling.
Lost in the moment, my hips shift involuntarily against him, seeking something I can't name. The movement brings me into contact with his hard manhood, the evidence of his desire, and the realization of what I'm feeling sends a shiver of excitement through me.
I pull back slightly, needing to catch my breath, to process the overwhelming sensations. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated, his breathing as ragged as my own. For a moment, we simply stare at each other, the connection between us almost tangible.
Then something shifts in his expression, a shadow crossing his features. His hands, which had been holding me with such passionate possession, suddenly freeze. I watch in confusion as awareness seems to crash over him. His face hardens into a mask of…disgust?
"Fuck," he growls, lifting me off his lap and setting me back in my own chair with careful but definitive movements. He stands abruptly, putting distance between us, running a hand roughly through his loosened hair. “Fuck!”
The whiplash of his sudden withdrawal leaves me dizzy and confused. "Cipher?—"
"No." The word cuts through the night air like a blade. "This was a mistake."
“Mistake?” I whisper, a sharp, searing pain blooming in my chest.
He won't look at me now, his posture rigid, hands clenched at his sides. “A huge fucking mistake.” He shakes his head.
Before I have a chance to say a word, he turns and takes off, his strides long and purposeful, leaving me alone in the looming darkness with swollen lips and a heart that feels like it's being crushed in a vise.
Chapter 6
Cipher
My body still burns with desire. My mind screams in protest. The taste of her lingers on my lips—sweet, innocent, everything I have no fucking right to touch.
When I'm sure I'm out of her sight, I slam my fist into the metal siding of the garage. Pain explodes up my arm, a welcome distraction from the dangerous hunger still coursing through me.
All I planned to do was apologize to her, and instead, I ended up molesting the woman.
I hit the side of the garage again. And again. The skin splits across my knuckles, blood smearing the painted surface, the metallic scent filling my nostrils.
Good. Physical pain, I understand. Physical pain I can relate to.
I force myself to breathe, to push back the red haze threatening to consume me. Three point two seconds inhale. Four point six seconds exhale. Repeat until heart rate normalizes. Basic self-regulation techniques.
But they're not fucking working, because all I can think about is Rose's soft body against mine, her inexperienced lipsopening under mine, the small, breathy sounds she made when I touched her. The way she looked at me with trust in her eyes—trust I don't fucking deserve.
Fuck.
I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the hard-packed dirt, head in my hands, the cool metal soothing against my back. Blood drips from my knuckles, forming small dark patterns in the dust. What kind of monster looks at something so pure and thinks: mine?
