Page 34 of Poisoned Pawn

A quick shower cools some of my ire, but when I get out and stand in front of the bathroom mirror, the small bite marks on my breasts set it to a steady boil.

I dress in the plain white t-shirt and too big black joggers, which I have to roll up at the top. Bare foot and sans underwear, I exit the room.

The hallway isn’t really a hall at all but more a balcony, mezzanine floor. To the right of me is another door and on the left is a wooden staircase leading down to a light, airy open plan ground floor. Scanning the area, I spot Carter in the kitchen making tea, and the mouthwatering aroma of bacon cooking reminds my stomach that I haven’t eaten.

Despite being angry at him and wanting to smack the shit out of him, I can’t deny how fucking hot he looks wearing nothing but a pair of grey joggers hung low on his hips and no top, displaying his ripped abs as he turns the bacon in the pan. One arm is completely covered in tattoos that carry over his shoulder as he turns his back to me. Foolishly, I think he isn’t aware of me as I stand and watch the muscles in his back flexing with each movement as he lifts the kettle and fills two cups with hot water.

“Getting a good look, princess?” he says before spinning around and raising his eyes to meet mine.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I snap back, completely disregarding him calling me princess and walk to the stairs, stomping down them. I’m surprised by the warmth as I step onto the flagstone floor and make my way towards him.

“So, it’s the bacon that has you drooling like a starved dog then?” He places a cup in front of me as I take a seat at the breakfast bar then turns back to the hob to finish the bacon.

“You should work on those similes. Comparing a woman to a starved dog isn’t exactly complimentary.”

He laughs, turning round and carrying over two plates of sandwiches. “Compliments aren’t really my thing. I’m more of an action man.”

“Really? Then how’s this for action,” I say and hold up my middle finger.

He puts up two fingers, forefinger and middle finger. “Nice, but I prefer these two after you’ve come all over them.” He then proceeds to run his tongue up them both before sucking them into his mouth. “I can still taste you on them, and it made my wank this morning in the shower even fucking sweeter.” He picks up his sandwich and takes a large bite.

“You’re disgusting!” I say picking up my own sandwich, yet suddenly my appetite has taken a nosedive. I thank god he can’t see me squeezing my thighs together under the worktop. If I were wearing any knickers, they’d be soaked through.

I bring my sandwich to mouth and hope that once my tongue gets a taste my stomach will wake back up. But just as I’m about to take a bite, Carter moves to beside me.

“I’m not disgusting, princess. I’m a red-blooded male that likes to get his dick wet. And you sweet, Star, are prime pussy.”

Oh my fucking god!

Half of me wants to ram that fucking sandwich down his throat and the other half wants him to show me just how disgusting he can be.

But you already know what he can do to you.

I shut off the voice in my head and bite the sandwich, chewing for what feels like forever, as Carter takes the seat beside me.

“Swallow, Star. I know you like to swallow.” His words trip off his tongue so casually like he isn’t alluding to the blow job I gave him the night we met while I choke on his words, or more precisely the mouthful of sandwich.

I manage to swallow my mouthful and then turn a murderous glare on him as he sits there with a raised brow and a smirk on his lips.

“What’s the plan here, Carter? ‘Cause if it’s for me to be stuck here with you while you continually remind me of one monumental mistake and throw innuendos at me, then I think I’ll head back to Manchester and take my chances.”

He rises from his seat, and towers over me, the cocky smirk he was wearing slips away and is replaced by a look that could cut off oxygen and stop hearts. Reaching out a hand, he tucks my hair behind my ear, then trails his finger down my neck, ghosting over the pulse point there, and I feel it as my heart skips a beat at his touch.

“It’s two, and I’m nowhere near done with you yet. Neither of those times were a monumental mistake. But you thinking you can walk away is. You’re mine until I decide otherwise,” he growls, and his tone has taken on a deadly timbre that matches the look on his face.

“Well, that doesn’t work for me. I’m not your fucking plaything. Go back to Illicit and find yourself another fuck-toy because I’m not it.”

His fingers wrap around my neck, and I can’t help the sharp inhale of breath as he tightens them.

“I don’t want a fuck-toy. I want a good girl who knows how to fuck me. One who can suck my cock like it’s an Olympic sport and swallow everything I have to give her.” His lips brush mine, and my eyes fall closed.

“You can’t fix me, Carter. I’m irreparably damaged.” The words come out a strangled whisper thanks to his grip on my throat and the tsunami of emotion his words have induced. My still closed eyes hold on tightly to the tears I refuse to let fall.

“I ain’t into fixing you. I want a woman who is broken to everyone else but whose fractured pieces match my own.”

As his mouth closes over mine, a lone tear falls down my cheek, and I give myself over to the pleasure this man—and only this man—can give me.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

---