Page 28 of Sire
With the extreme way we met, this feels fated, even fun, our layers quickly falling away. I’m not hiding where I’m from to play games with him. It’s to honor the one good person in my life so far.
The one good person … before I met Sire.
I’m not afraid to be with him. In fact, something tells me to tempt him if I have to.
“Butstallionfits you, doesn’t it?” I let him witness my stare, boldly dropping to the bulge in his pants, my eyes groping his size.God, is it growing?I bite my lip. It scares and seduces me. “Youarea sire.”
I lift my eyes from his swelling package and meet his evil smirk. It’s like he’s two men—a pastor and a predator. It’s so hot and haunting, that sweet spot between my legs tingles.
The heated look in his eyes traps me against the shelves. It reaches down between my clenched thighs, covered by jeans, grabbing my sex.
He leans forward, looming over me. “Oh, my innocent angel.” The deep timbre of his voice finds the tiny bud on my body I love to play with. “You don’t want to know howhugelyfitting my name is.”
“What if Ido?”
There.
I said it.
I know what he did last night. The walls between our bedrooms are paper-thin. Same as our bathrooms. I couldhear him in the shower, and again, an hour later, in his bed. His muffled, manly grunts of lust made my insides flutter.
The need rushing through my body was unbearable. My legs opened, and I did the same thing, but I couldn’t be as quiet. The pillow couldn’t muffle my scream. I’ve never had a huge orgasm like that.
Did he hear me?
I never had a man in my mind.Sire. A name on my lips.Sire.A desire so painful, I had to satisfy it.Sire.He was all I could think about while I came so hard, it hurt.
It only made me more certain I belong with him.
“No way, Wren.” His face suddenly softens, his voice, too. “You don’t want me. You’re too young.”
I glare. “Funny, I’m not too young for other things. Like joining the Army and killing people or dying for my country. Let me ask you something personal.”
“In the middle of a fucking grocery store?” He grins. “Shoot. It hasn’t stopped you so far.”
“Do you believe I have a right to choose what happens to my body? If I get pregnant? If I get cancer? Good or bad, do you believe I’m capable of making those decisions for myself?”
He steps back. “Of course, I do.”
“Anything and everything because it’s my body, right?”
“Right.”
“Then don’t insult me and all women and treat us like a cafeteria line.”
“A what?” He half chuckles.
“A cafeteria line where you pick and choose when I get to make decisions for myself. It doesn’t work that way. It’s not logical. A woman either has complete power over her body or none. Otherwise, it’s patriarchal bullshit.”
His eyes sparkle. “So, you’re a feminist?”
“A woman is a fool not to fight for herself, and Nannie wasa feminist, too. Old school. She marched for me to be able to stand here and tell you to go fuck yourself if you try to tell me what to do with my body. Which … by the way … wants to fuck you. I want you to be my first.”
“Jesus, Jesus,” he mutters.
“Amen.”
The pause he gives, searching my eyes, gives me hope.
