Page 113 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
“Morning,” she says. Her voice is still rough with sleep.
“Morning.”
We’re both acutely aware of the fact that she’s in my bed, wearing my clothes, looking like she belongs here. The tension that’s been building between us for weeks feels like a live wire now, crackling in the space between us.
I tip her chin up with a finger, kissing her gently. Her breath hitches and she presses forward, deepening the kiss. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, enjoying the way I run my mouth down the column of her throat. I keep my touches light, avoiding her breasts and hips and ass. She throws her leg over me, her soft gasps driving straight into my fucking cerebellum.
My cock, already hard when I woke up, is painfully aware of every single sound that leaves her perfect mouth. I bite my lip and smooth my hand up her thigh. Juliet Monroe is going to kill me.
But when I don’t push for more, just continue kissing her neck and ears, she opens her eyes and levels me with a gaze. “You’re playing with me.”
“Maybe a little.” My lips twitch. “I’m enjoying getting you worked up.”
“I want you to take control, Hux. I think you like to dominate. Show me. Show me what it’s like when you get rough.”
Goddamn. Does she even have the faintest idea of what her words do to me?
“Monroe.” I shake my head. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Maybe not.” She sounds breathless. “But I won’t know unless I try. Maybe I’ll like it rough.”
She’s serious as an open grave, tempting me to do the dark, wicked things that I want to do to her. She’s tiny and fragile. I could snap her bones by accident just by putting my full weight on them.
“Juliet…” I grab her chin, pinning her with my gaze.
She rakes her nails down my chest, giving me chills. “Yes?”
“I can’t do this halfway. If I take control, it’s mine until you say stop.” My eyes bore into hers, trying to make sure she understands.
She smirks. “Like a… secret code?”
Sliding my hand into her hair, I tug her head back, running my nose along her exposed throat. “A safe word. How about Firecracker?”
Juliet’s eyes sparkle, and she grins. “Sounds good.”
I draw my finger in a line down her collarbone and between her breasts.
“Until I hear your safe word, Monroe, everything is on the table. Spanking, sex toys, restraints, spitting, edging, anal...”
“I want to walk on the wild side for once.” She licks her plump lips. “Bring it on, Huxley.”
Gripping her hair harder, I kiss her fiercely. She takes everything I have to give her and returns it to me, hips bucking against me, her mouth opening to let me in. It’s a little hard for me to take in for a second.
Could Juliet actually like this fucked up, kinky shit? That’s impossible to wrap my head around.
“Juliet.” I mean to keep it low and casual, but my voice comes out a hungry rasp. “Come here.”
She slides over without a word, practically in my lap before I can reach for her. I wind a hand in her hair and pull, just hard enough to make her gasp, and she climbs onto me, straddling my thighs. It’s not a test of wills anymore. It’s need, pure and simple.
I run my hands up her calves, skimming over the soft skin. I pause when I get to her thighs and squeeze. She shivers.
“Is this what you want?” I ask. “You want me to take what I need from you?”
She answers with a kiss, messy and too hard, lipstick dragging over my lips. “Stop asking.Take it.”
I laugh, my tone a little mean. “You trying to run the show? That’s not how this works, Monroe.”
Her eyes go wide and then narrow, as if she’s weighing whether to bite my head off or just give in. I’m rooting for the latter.
