“I’m nothing special, just . . . me,” she says, looking up at me with emotion in her eyes that makes me want her all the more. “And no one has ever done anything like that for me before. Thank you.”
I growl, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck as I step closer to her, our bodies a mere whisper away from touching. “Don’t say that. You are beautiful. You can haunt a man’s dreams, his fantasies, filled with your laughter, your sighs . . . and your screaming his name in pleasure. You’re special, Meghan.”
A small whimper escapes her lips as she looks up at me, her lips parting, almost begging for me to take them in a kiss. I shouldn’t. I can’t . . . for so many reasons.
But she’s irresistible. I need to know what she tastes like. I have to experience the taste of her skin, whether it’s the sparkle vanilla cupcakes she makes me think of, all sugar and sweetness. Or if there’s the musky undertone that has haunted my dreams, the sexual essence of a woman that I sense burning just beneath the surface.
Instead of tasting her lips the way I want to, I trace my free hand down her arm, slowly and steadily to take hold of her hand. Bringing it up, I inspect her knuckles too, noting that they’re looking a little bruised even in the dim light of the hallway. “Are you okay? That was quite a punch you landed.”
She nods, her eyes so wide as I kiss her knuckles, one by one, letting my tongue slip out to lick at her as I caress her skin. She’s even more thrilling than I thought, electric vanilla fireworks that make my head spin.
As I heal her not-at-all-injured hand with my ministrations, I look up to meet her eyes. “Not sure any of us saw that coming from such a sweet, innocent thing.”
She smirks, a fire sparking deep in her eyes as she gathers herself for a sassy reply. “Who says I’m sweet and innocent?”
I chuckle, flipping her hand to kiss her fingertips and palm. They’re silky soft, and in my mind, I can imagine this hand holding my cock in front of her open mouth for me to fill. “Angel, everything about you says sweet and innocent. That’s what’s so fucking dangerous. You don’t know what you’re playing with. You make me want to dirty you up, shock you with the filthy things I want to do your body, and tease at that sweetness until I can drink up every drop of you like candy.”
My words galvanize Meghan’s body, leaving her panting, her breath smelling like sugar with a faint hint of coffee, making me want to sip the flavor from her lips. I don’t think she means to say it out loud, but a soft hiss escapes her pink lips unbidden anyway. “Yesss.”
I cup her jaw in both hands, forcing her eyes to meet mine and lock. The next words are the hardest words I’ve ever spoken, tearing from the depths of my stomach like coughing up nails. “But we can’t. You know the rules. Dominick would kill me. Literally, most likely. And you deserve better than me. You see me as a dangerous thrill, but I’d ruin you. A night with me would leave your pretty pink pussy in tatters from fucking you so rough because I’m not a gentle lover. I’d take you hard, wringing your orgasms out of you until you passed out in exhaustion. I’d give you so much cum, your pussy couldn’t even hold it all and it would run down your legs.”
Her eyes are dilated, wide and soft as if I’m whispering sweet nothings in her ear. I thought she’d be shocked, maybe even offended by my crude words. Some of me hoped she would be, that she’d be repelled and maybe we could end this dance between us. But it seems this angel has a bit more devil in her body than I thought.
Every bit of me wants to make good on my words, toss her on the chair in the corner and earn the first cries of her orgasm with my tongue between her legs. With the way her skin tasted, death by Dominick’s hand might be worth it.
As much as I don’t want to, I have to tell her the rest, leaning in to smell her hair before whispering in her ear. “As much as that excites you—and yes, my cock is throbbing at the idea too—I’ll break your heart, Angel. I’ll take what I need, make you a dirty mess, and leave. It’s what I do. I’m a bastard, a motherfucker who only hurts those who let me in. You deserve better than me.”
I pull back from her ear, letting her see the truth of my words in my eyes, on my face, knowing that even if I wanted to, I can’t keep her. That’s not who I am. It’s . . . impossible.
The spell is broken, my words sinking into her head, her heart. I can see the moment her desire and arousal turn to hurt, then anger. She pulls back, putting space between us, and I hate it instantly, missing the feel of her so close.
“I see,” she says, turning on a heel and heading toward the lockers. I want to chase her, push her to the ground, and take her like the predator I am. I want to bury myself inside her, feel her spasm as I stake my claim on her body, mind, and soul. Mine.
But this is the right thing to do. Let her push me away for her own sanity and safety. I can take it, even if it hurts. And right now, it does hurt, both in my gut and in my balls.
Just before reaching the curtain to the changing area, Meghan turns back, her eyes flashing dangerously. “You say I deserve more. That’s for me to decide. Don’t act like you get to make decisions for me. Is this just a game to you? Get me all riled up and then squash me with some lame justification that sounds more like a carrot on a stick enticement than a real warning? Well, fu–forget you.”
She pushes the curtain aside, and I feel like I just got punched in the gut. She almost cursed at me. If I needed any more proof, that tells me how hurt she really is. Fucking hell. That was the last thing I wanted to do. I just couldn’t help myself. She calls to me without even meaning to, and I’m barely holding back, for her sake.
She leaves the curtain open, stomping her little body over to her locker and ripping her scrap of a miniskirt out. She glares at me over her shoulder and then pulls it on over her sweats, only dropping them once she has the scrap in place.
I don’t bother telling her that when she bends over to grab the sweats from the floor, I can see the bottom of her ass cheeks, so grabbable and biteable. And the peek of her good girl panties, white with lace trim against her tan flesh, does more for my fantasies than any fancy lingerie ever has.
She snatches her black lace bustier off the hook, holding it to her front like a shield even though she still has her tank top on.
She makes a shooing motion with her hand, swatting the air at me like I’m an annoyance. “Weren’t you just saying you would leave me? Well, go ahead. I’ve got to get ready for my shift.”
I should, I absolutely should. But I can’t walk away when she’s so mad at me. Instead, I assume my security guard stance, my feet planted firmly on the floor with my arms crossed over my chest, eyes daring her to test me. With a huff, she turns back to face her locker and rips her tank over her head.
The expanse of her back beckons me, and I want to trace the line of her spine with my tongue, make her arch beneath me as I fuck her from behind. She quickly fastens the bustier, not needing any help, and then leans forward, shimmying slightly and doing something to her tits, but my eyes are fastened on the flash of her ass again.
It’s delectable, just enough that I could massage, knead . . . and spank it until it’s bright red. It’s taut, perfect, the type of ass that could grip my cock until we’re both crying out. That peek is going to taunt me all night and for a long time to come. After slipping her heels and apron on, Meghan struts toward me looking like a fucking Valkyrie in petite-fairy form.
I hold my position, expecting her to either stop in front of me for another scathing dismissal or maybe push me out of her way. But she does neither.