Page 233 of Nyx

"That's not exactly the look I was hoping for," she says, pulling me from my distracting thoughts.

"I'm not your monster," I whisper, locking eyes with her.

"Because you're not a monster," she clarifies, her eyes softening. "Monster cock, maybe, but-"

She doesn't have a chance to finish her words because I press my mouth to hers.

She moans into our kiss, arms wrapping around my shoulders, but then I try to lift her and carry her to the bed, only to realize my fucking jeans and boxers are wrapped around my thighs.

So much for perfect, cinematic love-making.

I break our kiss, loving the sound of her laughter when she realizes what has thrown a wrench into our plans.

She steps back, but instead of just standing there as I work to get my clothes and boots off, she climbs on the bed, as naked as the day she was born.

My fingers forget how to work, my arms become noodles, and suddenly it's like I'm not even the one who put these fucking boots on this morning.

I clear my throat, trying to regain some composure.

"So pretty, baby. Show me what you have for me," I say, my tone even as I bend forward to unlace my boots.

She only hesitates for a second, and I read it as mild embarrassment with the lights on rather than not wanting to do it.

Then, as if she is a gift handed to me from God Himself, she bends her knees and lets her legs drop open.

She glistens, her arousal slick against the prettiest pink flesh I've ever seen.

My mouth waters for a taste as I kick off my boots and my remaining clothing.

I keep my eyes locked right on the center of her as I crawl up the bed, but I only get to sweep my tongue up the middle of her once before both of her hands cup my jaw and force my eyes to hers.

She shakes her head.

"But-"

"But nothing," she says with so much confidence I have to smile.

There's not an ounce of fear in her eyes, no worry clouding her gaze. She isn't afraid to stop me, to speak to me, or to tell me exactly what she wants. She knows there will be no retaliation, no retribution for speaking up, and my cock leaks with the knowledge.

"I don't have a condom," I say. "We used the only one I had."

"That changes things," she says, and I immediately pull away, dropping to my back beside her.

I won't pressure her. I won't mention my blood test results. All of that feels like coercion.

"Exactly," she says, but instead of climbing out of the bed and putting her clothes back on, she swings her leg over my body.

My hands immediately lift to her hips, my eyes locking with hers.

"Is this okay?" she asks.

"Is it okay with you?" I counter.

She dips her head twice.

"You're sure?"

"A hundred percent," she whispers. "You?"