Page 57 of Wilt

The kiss is violent, raw-edged lust. It’s the dark and the light, all the secrets held now spilled. It’s sweet, right in the center, a sweetness I only taste for a moment. It’s enough to crack something open, enough for him to end the kiss.

Then he rolls away and gets up, grabbing his shirt and wiping his face.

I’m boneless, open, weak, sprawled on his bed. My brain is wafting and little ripples of sweetness rock through me here and there, tiny aftershocks.

“Get out, Rose.” He’s still sporting an erection and he’s still the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. And—

I stare at him. Working out what he said.

“Get the fuck out. Now.”

Swallowing hard, I try and get up. I slip down, embarrassing myself as my knees shake, but I manage to get up. I take a step and stagger, almost falling before I right myself. He doesn’t come to help. He doesn’t move at all. I get to the door and grip it, needing a second to get my legs working properly, to breathe.

He finally speaks again, and when he does, all emotion in his voice is gone, like it’s dead, nothing but sun-bleached bones.

“Go, Rose. Now.”

I take a step.

“I want you to remember this, little Rose.”

“Kicking me out?” I ask.

“No. Remember that while I can punish you, I can also reward you. How you play it is up to you and my mood. Now get the fuck out. I’ve work to do.”

I don’t need to be told again. I run out of his room, naked and not caring, and I don’t stop until I get to my own.

I’m a mess.

I’m lost.

And I don’t know what to do.

Chapter20

Nikolai

“Are you even paying attention?”

I look at Rush, who’s been talking a mile and a half a minute ever since he got in. Of course I’m not listening.

Last night, Rose came three times. She came so hard she squirted and I almost came in my fucking pants.

Then I kissed her with… I don’t know what. It felt like I broke rules I didn’t know I had.

How could I resist? Her taste is still a revelation, and I want to do it all over again. Maybe I should kill her and be done with it. I should fuck her senseless and then slit her throat while she’s coming, then carve her up and send her to dear old daddy in pieces.

“Jesus, Niko, you look like you’re about to face a noose.”

I raise a brow. “Do I? I’m thinking your imagination’s gotten hold of you and not in a good way. Go away, Rush.”

I’m not killing her, at least not like that. That’s the problem here, I want her and I’m veering from doing something repulsive to… not keeping her but handing her over. Maybe that’s almost as horrible as my demented killing fantasy. Maybe it’s worse.

I don’t fucking know and it’s really not my fucking problem.

Fantasy is the wrong word.

Fuck. She’s under my goddamn skin. I don’t get how she could taste so good. It’s not just that, though, it’s—

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