Page 39 of Lunatic
Cupping the back of my head, he closes the gap between us, and kisses my lips softly.
“Or my mouth.”
Holding my head firmly, he pulls away briefly before slamming his lips to mine, and coaxes my mouth open with his tongue. I should hate him for not giving me a choice, but I don’t. As he swipes his tongue against mine, I feel it in my core. His touch is like fire. It lights me up from the inside out, threatening to engulf me. This should be a warning. I’m going to lose what’s left of me to this man if I’m not careful. But this kiss is different from before. It’s filled with a passion that confirms his promise before. He’s never going to let me go. At least not willingly.
Thirty-one hours on a fucking bus was torture. I kissed her and touched her, even made her come, but I didn’t bury my cock inside her, as much as I wanted to. Once I do that, there can be no interruptions. I may fuck her for days on end, so I knew it had to wait until we were alone. Especially because if anybody saw her, I’d have to kill them. How will she react when she sees it again? I won’t hide the man I am from her. Bianca will see me kill again.
It’s the reason I know I have got to get a tracker into her. I already have it planned out. A good friend of mine I met during my brief stint in prison is going to help me. I’m not delusional enough to believe she won’t try to run.
“Do you live here?”
Pulling her hand to my lips, I kiss it gently before we get into the taxi.
“No. I live in New York City, and we will go there, but I thought it would be good for us to stay in one place, for at least the night. We’re still nearly seven hours away from my house.”
I slide into the car beside her, and tell the driver what hotel to go to. I don’t have identification, so it needs to be someone that can be bought. This particular hotel will not ask for any information, thanks to my connections.
“Won’t they show up at your house to find you?”
It’s a valid question, but nothing is in my name.
“The title is in my friend’s name.”
“Friend?” She responds with a cute little furrowed brow.
I kiss her cheek as I chuckle.
“Yes, Bianca. I have friends. Her name is Lucky. You’ll love her.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, with a scowl on her face. One that says she is far from pleased, and I try not to laugh at how adorable she looks when she’s pissed.
“Her? Is she your girlfriend?”
Jesus. She’s fuckingjealous.That should not thrill me as much as it does. Diffusing this right now, and telling her there isn’t another woman in the world that I’d consider touching is the right thing, but that’s not what I’ll do. The truth is, I like this. I really am a bastard. In every sense of the word.
“No, she’s not my girlfriend,” I answer truthfully.
Her face turns from mad to surprised, before the glare returns.
“Do you want her to be? The only reason you met me was because you were locked in an asylum. Maybe now that you’re free, you’ll want to be with her.” She speaks in a low voice, probably so the man in front won’t hear her.
Ignoring our driver, I slide my hand from her collarbone up to her neck, and wrap my hand around her throat. Her pulse throbs hard against my palm, and makes my cock hard. Her fear causes adrenaline to spike in my blood. Leaning my head down, I growl the truth.
“Everything I want is right here. There is not a single woman alive that interests me other than you. The question of will I let you go will always have the same goddamn answer. Hell no. Why? Because my obsession with you runs deep. Not skin deep.Fucking soul deep.This is more permanent than the ink of a tattoo.”
The clearing of a throat interrupts me, but I think I’ve made myself clear.
“We’re here, sir.”
Opening the bag, I grab the cash, and hand it to him with a nod. I open the door and help Bianca out. She glances around at the bright lights to the hotel.
“Lucky,” she says, staring up at the brightly lit sign spelling outLucky’s Casino,as she connects the dots for herself.
“Trust me, you’ll love her.”
She looks over at me, with an expression you’d expect from someone biting down on a bitter fruit.
“Trust me, I already don’t like her.”
