Page 82 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You
My eyes snag the camera in the corner. I draw my phone, breach the feed and snuff the signal.
Ophelia watches me, arms folded across her body, the pose accentuating the sensual curve of her silhouette.
Wariness shadows her features, she knows she’s fucked up.
I take one step. “You let him touch you.”
Another pace. “Why did you let him touch you, Ophelia?”
Another. “Do you want the boy dead?”
A final step and I’m so near she can feel the heat of my breath against her cheek. “Do you want that on your conscience, ma lune? Because if you do, I will see it done.”
Her lips part on a slow, shaky breath. She trembles, and the sound she makes is small and helpless.
Every logical thought thins away until there’s only possession, fury, and a tenderness I will not name.
I ought to walk away.
I do not.
I push my thumb into her mouth, and her lips close around it, a gentle, shocking suction.
I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. “I’m so fucking angry with you, Ophelia. Do you know why?”
She gives a tiny, hesitant shake of her head.
“Use your words,” I tell her, withdrawing my thumb but keeping my grip firm on her chin.
“No,” she breathes.
A low, hollow laugh slips from me. “I’ll enlighten you.” I draw the words out. “Because you let another man lay his filthy hands on you. Because you drove off without me, alone, over icy roads to a bar in another country, with who knows what predators inside.”
“Why do you care?” she whispers.
A lie rips free of me. “I don’t.”
Then I grab her face and crush my mouth against hers.
When I break the kiss, my voice comes out low and rough. “On your fucking knees. Now.”
A long beat passes between us. Her eyes search mine, reading exactly what I mean, and then she moves.
I shrug out of my jacket, drop it to the floor, a barrier between her knees and the cold tile.
“Unzip me,” I growl, and her fingers fumble at my belt. The sound of metal and breath fills the air. When she finally freesme, she stills, her throat tightening, a slow swallow visible in her neck.
“What?” I rasp, my voice thick, control hanging by a thread.
“You’re just so… big,” she whispers, as if she’s seeing me for the first time. She isn’t, she’s put her mouth on me more times than I can count.
But fuck if that doesn’t send a bolt of pure, primal satisfaction straight to my ego… and my cock.
“Take me in your mouth.”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, a torturous preview. But her slow, tentative movement is too much. I don’t have the patience.
I fist my hand in her hair, guiding her mouth to me. The slick head of my cock brushes her lips, and I swear I almost come from that single, electric touch.
