Page 19 of Santa Daddy
"Go ahead." His thumb brushed my bottom lip. "Tell them. See if they come."
"They will," I whispered.
"No, kotyonok." His smile could cut glass. "They won't."
Then his mouth was on mine.
The kiss was brutal. Claiming. His tongue invading with zero permission, his hand in my hair yanking my head back at the angle he wanted.
I should bite him. Should fight.
Instead, I kissed him back.
Hate and want mixing until they were the same thing.
My hands found his wet shoulders. Nails digging in. Drawing blood probably.
Good.
If I'm going to hell for this, you're coming with me.
He broke the kiss, both of us gasping.
"You're soaking wet," he growled.
"You're dripping on me."
"Not what I meant." His hand slid down. Cupped between my legs. "Here. You're wet here."
Die. Just die right now.
I tried to shove him away.
He didn't budge.
Just pressed harder, his palm grinding against me through thin cotton, and I made a sound that's half gasp, half moan, fully humiliating.
"That's what I thought." His eyes were black now. Pupils swallowing the gray. "You want this. You want me. Even while you hate yourself for it."
"I don't?—"
"Yes, you do." He yanked at my pajama top.
Buttons flew.
Suddenly I was bare-chested in his bedroom while he was naked and wet and looking at me like I was his next meal.
"Tell me no." His hand found my breast. "Tell me to stop and I will."
Say it. Say no. Preserve something.
"I..." My voice wouldn't work.
His thumb circled my nipple and thought evaporated.
Oh God.
"Say it, Dani." His mouth found my neck. "Say no."
