My grin grows sheepish. "It would have spoiled the line of your skirt."
"You sent me these tickets, and a dress, and beautiful shoes, and now you've brought me down to a quiet balcony because you want to get me alone. I don't sleep with clichés, Mr. Lore."
Now I'm irritated. She's talking in circles—probably because she has no idea what she wants.
The beer bottle drops from my fingers and rolls slowly away to one side. I step further forward, placing my other hand on the bars and effectively caging Leo in my arms. Her brow furrows as she realises; perhaps alcohol has made her reflexes a little slow. How very unfortunate.
I gaze down at her, trying to ignore the heat rushing to my groin. The familiar scent of mulled wine floats up, mellowed a little by her nervous sweat. "Maybe I just want to talk about the acquisition."
She shifts about, obviously uncomfortable. "My lawyer says—"
"Fuck your lawyer."
She swallows. Drops her arms from her body, then appears to struggle with where else to put them. They hang awkwardly at her sides. "You're in my personal space. I'd like for you to move, please."
"That's very cute."
"Please move," she repeats, stressing the words.
"I don't want to," I tell her. And God, she's all the more desirable for thinking I might actually listen.
"What is it you hope to achieve here?"
Now there's a question. It cannot be answered with words. I breathe in the scent of her—perfume and panic—and inch closer again so that she's rigid against my chest. Then I slide a hand along her waist to the peak of her ass, just to feel the way her whole body pulls tighter.
I groan softly. Soak in her reluctant warmth. "You please me...so many ways."
A disgruntled hmph falls from her lips. She's noticed my stiff cock, the way it twitches on her belly.
"I could yank your dress up right here," I whisper. "Are you wet for me, sweetheart?"
I'm not sure which of us starts the scuffle. All I know is that desire brings my fingers to the split in her skirt; I thrust them up her thigh in search of her *. Before I get there, however, she twists to one side and throws her knee into my groin, which would hurt if she wasn't so short. This makes me laugh—I can't help it—and she's furious, all crushed against me, stamping on my feet with her heels. When her squirming increases, I take a fist full of honey and feathers, pull her head back...and shove my mouth over hers.
Her shocked whimper nearly does me in. She tastes like alcohol on the edge of a mint. A gasp, a muffled breath between us, then her tongue acquiesces to mine. Adrenaline pools at my pulse points. I'm hard, so fucking hard with her writhing up and down like this, that all I can think of is pulling her dress up and pushing inside. I'll put one hand over her mouth, squash her wrists in the other, bend her over the railing so the spikes scratch her dress to shreds...
Leontine stands on tiptoe to suck my bottom lip. Fuck, such a good girl for me already.
Her teeth sink in. Hard. She jerks her head back, tearing, and then spits out the stinging mess of my lip with a snarl.
I swipe at my face only to bring back blood-stained fingers. The sight sets my pulse to lightening, makes the skyline ahead of me blur. "Motherfucker."
Meanwhile, she scrambles out from under me. She's stumbling on her heels now, hissing through those sharp teeth, and there's a scarlet trickle of blood smeared across her chin. "You're one to talk," she snaps. "You touch me again and I swear, I swear—"
"What, you'll tear another chunk out of me?" I step toward her, still clutching at my mouth; she moves back like we're warring magnets. "That all you got?"
"I hurt you." There's a distant, shivering quality to her voice, as if she's talking to herself. She studies me with big black button eyes, brings her thumb up and drags it slowly through the blood on her skin. Her gaze drops to appraise the damage.
"Go on," I urge.
She shakes her head, still staring at her sticky thumb.
"Leo."
"No." Her lower lip trembles. She wants to run—the air prickles with it—but that rough thread ties us together. "No."
Silence.
I bring my fingers to my bleeding mouth, push them in. Taste. She watches.
Come on, baby.
A scrape of her heels, a soft curse...and then she turns from me. But too late.
I see her hand come up to graze her jawline. And I see her pink tongue cut a pale path through the red.
Heady. Expensive. Addictive as opium.
Leo, what have you done?
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO
Home
Aged 17
My junior year is so nearly fucked that it's teetering on the precipice.
I sway with it. Back and forth. I don't remember the last time I cried like this, not since things got better.