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“Tell me you don’t want me, lil’ doll. Tell me you haven’t been thinking about me since you first discovered your clit.”
I should be embarrassed that he’s read some of my deepest and darkest thoughts, but he’s not wrong. I’ve always thought about him and imagined how things would be when we met again. I never thought it’d be like this.
Intense.
Hot.
Explosive.
Kyson drops his pants to his ankles. His lips trail along my jaw and down my throat as he fumbles with the strings on my red silken cape. “Screw it.” Turning his attention elsewhere, he prods between my thighs, pulling the crotch of my panties aside and rubbing the head of his cock against the one place I promised to protect from bad boys like Kyson Allen, who are only after one thing.
I give it to him freely.
Teeth sinking into my bottom lip, I cry out as he pushes further in. I know I’m being stupid. But once he gets what he wants, we can both move on. We can stop this messed up complicated game he loves to play. He wins. I’m his. Fingers digging into my hips, he drives into me repeatedly. The back of my head beats against the kitchen cabinets. Body shivering and quaking, I scratch my nails down his back.
“You feel so damn good,” he grits the words against my lips like a prayer. “Too damn good. I’m already about to come,” he confesses, and it turns me on, edging me closer to getting off. “But the only way we come is together.”
The thought of it is nearly enough to finish me off, but Kyson toys with me, drawing out quickly only to push back inside me at a tortuously slow pace.
“See that? How perfect our bodies fit?” He angles my hips and draws back enough that I can watch as our bodies connect.
“I see it.”
His mouth comes down hard on mine, his tongue warring with mine.
“Tell my you’re my pretty little doll.”
“I’m yours. All yours.”
“Mine to do whatever I want with.”
“Mmm,” I agree. I think I’d say anything to keep him doing what’s he’s currently doing to me as he massages my sweet spot with the pad of his finger.
I’ve never wanted anything more than this. Than to belong to Kyson.
“So good, Dahlia. Fucking tight. Perfect, baby. You’re so damn perfect for me.”
Brushing his lips over mine, he strokes my cheek with his fingertip as he gazes deeply into my eyes with this soft expression.
I place a palm to his chest, wanting to feel his erratic heartbeat as his movements cease. He holds utterly still as though he’s trying to convey something wordlessly. There’s this burning intensity in his eyes that takes my breath away, he’s so achingly beautiful, I almost can’t believe this is really happening.
The boy I’ve vowed to hate is having his way with me in the kitchen.
“Why did you stop?”
He smiles at me, showing off those dimples I love. “Burning this image to my mind for later,” he states oddly, but I don’t question it because he’s doing that thing I like with his fingers.
Kyson resumes moving inside me harder and faster as we both pant into each other’s mouths.
“I’m going to come,” he warns.
“You’ve gotta pull out,” I tell him, pushing against his shoulders. “Kyson,” I plead but he either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care.
He hooks his arms under my knees, keeping me at angle that I’m unable to do anything but take his brutal thrusts as he comes at me harder and deeper going faster and faster until he goes rigid, and he jerks inside me, proving love can be ruthless.
Savage even.
But there’s a poetic beauty in all of it and the stupid games we play.
