Page 45 of Corrupted Deception

He cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “You know I don’t take orders,” he taunted while his eyes sparked up like blue freaking fireworks. Like he was looking for the fight, anticipating it, fucking high on it.

Dear lord, he couldn’t be that perfect. He just couldn’t. It wasn’t worth considering. Not until he jerked his hand in my hair, roughly tilting my head on an angle as he kept his gaze on mine, watching, assessing.

The urge to turn this room into our own personal battleground welled up, so potent I could taste it. It tasted like sex and sweat and victory, like scratches and bruises and exquisite pleasure. It tasted like the thin line that hovered between sex and violence, more addictive than a switchback ride-fueled adrenaline rush.

So, instead of shoving him away, I fed the impulse and slid my hands up higher, grabbing him by the short hair at the back of his neck, jerking him toward me and leaning up at the same time.

When our lips met, it wasn’t a kiss; it was a battle. Tongues dueling, hands gripping, chests heaving. My breath came out in a ragged gasp as he tugged my hair harder, trying to gain the upper hand by tilting my head back further.

I unsheathed my teeth and sunk them into his lip.

He hissed as he jerked out of my grasp, but before I could celebrate my small victory, he abandoned his grip on my hair, grabbed my shoulders, and spun me around.

My hands slammed against the wall to keep me upright, and then his body pressed against me from behind, flattening my breasts against the cool hotel room wall.

His hand was back, jerking on my hair and yanking my head to the side, exposing the back of my neck to him.

His lips found the junction between my neck and shoulder, caressing at first, sucking lightly on my flesh until he caught it between his teeth, not enough to break skin but enough to send that rush straight down between my thighs.

I panted and planned, letting him think he’d bested me for a moment, enjoying the feel of his lips and teeth and the press of his hard cock against the small of my back.So good.

“You always have to fight me, don’t you,tempesta?”he whispered, his lips a hair’s breadth from my ear now.

“You’re damn right I do, handsome.” I replied.

He shook his head against me. “Wrong name. Try again.”

Another memory came, unbidden and unwelcome.

“I thought you might like it,” he says, handing me a copy of ‘Kindred’ by Octavia E. Butler.

I look at the book in my hand, smoothing the perfect, unmarred cover. My eyes start to sting.

“Well, aren’t you just Prince Charming,” I say flippantly, keeping my head down under the guise of flipping through the pristine pages.

He laughs.“I’m no prince.”

“Then I guess it’s just ‘charming’, huh?”

Charming.

The past and the present blurred together, making old feelings rise up and churn with the arousal in my veins, trying to turn this into something it wasn’t.

And that just wasn’t going to happen.

Chapter Thirteen

Cielo Luciano

Her body went slack against me, losing all of its fight in an instant.

“Let me go, Cielo,” she said. There was no challenge in her voice, nothing for me to grab onto and sink my teeth into.

Fuck.

I was twice her size. I could take what I wanted; she couldn’t stop me. I could pin her up against the wall and bury my cock in the body that had starred in my fantasies for years.

She wanted it. I could feel it in the press of her body against me, and the scent of her arousal was making me fucking hungry.

---