And it did.
I might have driven faster than usual. One, it’s imperative to get here as soon as possible. Two, I needed more of the warmth that radiated off her body when she was glued to me.
It’s been a long time since I last touched her, had her softness molded all around me, and smelled the water lilies on her skin.
I was a grouchy, unapproachable fucker for the past month, and even I could tell the reason was thoroughly due to her absence from my life.
Though I do stalk her, as she likes to call it, that’s not enough.
Nothing is enough when it comes to Cecily fucking Knight.
She studies her surroundings, the vast lawns, and the pitch-black night as if it’s the first time she’s been here.
Her skin has turned pale and her lips are slightly parted, accentuating the subtle teardrop in the upper one.
She crosses her arms, subconsciously pushing her round perky tits forward. And it’s a cruel reminder that I haven’t grabbed on, sucked, or marked those tits in a very long time.
Just like my life, this place has been hollow without her. So much so that I’ve only dropped by twice. The memory of her within the cottage’s walls and all over the property haunted the fuck out of me.
After Cecily carefully inspects her surroundings, her eyes meet mine. Under the night sky, they’re dark yet glittery. While they appear to be full of life, the fact is, like their owner, they’re fighting to stay afloat. “Why are we here?”
I revel in the sound of her voice, in the gentle undertone that matches the breeze enveloping us. I try not to be affected by that, her presence, or the fact that she looks no different from a meal waiting to be devoured.
But my cock has other ideas.
He’s developed singular tastes and has metaphorically tattooed her name all over his limited consciousness.
He’s been twitching, stirring, demanding to be inside her since I touched her earlier at the shelter.
Cecily watches me carefully, like injured prey caught in a trap.
She realizes that her only way out is through the hunter—me. Only, I have no mercy to offer, and I certainly haven’t brought her here just to let her leave.
I advance toward her, and she takes two steps back. She stumbles on the stairs leading to the patio, but then she grabs the railings and continues her climb up.
“Jeremy…don’t…”
“Don’t what?” I continue the cat-and-mouse game, enjoying the show of her futile attempts to escape. “And are you sure you want to speak breathily like that? Sounded like an invitation.”
Her steps quicken, but she doesn’t turn around and run, no. She knows better than to turn her back to me, because there will be no stopping me. That would be the actual invitation.
But I don’t want to play a game right now. I have something more pressing in mind.
Cecily gasps when she crashes against the door. Her fingers latch onto the knob, frantically trying to turn it. The moment she does, I pounce on her.
My arm wraps around her waist, effectively binding her to me. As usual, she takes that as an opportunity to fight me. Her petite form thrashes against my larger one, hitting, slapping, scratching, clawing.
I still manage to carry her inside and to the sofa. Her face, neck, and ears have turned a deep shade of red.
“Let me go!” There’s desperation in her voice, and it’s not only due to our usual play. “Leave me alone, Jeremy.”
“No.”
It’s one word, a single word, but it’s enough to relay my decision concerning her.
There’s no way I’ll ever let Cecily go. No matter what she does, no matter what my demons say. No matter how the fuck it goes from then on.
I’ll simply abduct her, keep her, and make her a part of me so that she’s unable to leave.
Shiny moisture lines her eyes as she pushes at my arm. “Please, Jeremy. Just let me be.”
“Save the begging for something more lucrative, because this,” I tighten my hold around her waist, “will never change. You are mine, Cecily. Start acting like it.”
And then I sink my fingers into her silver hair, my thumb digging into her cheek, and I claim her lips.
I kiss her with unbounded hunger. I kiss her as I’ve never kissed anyone before. Before her, any physical intimacy with the opposite sex was merely to satiate a need.
With Cecily, she is the need. It’s not about fucking, owning, or release.
It’s about her and her intoxicating scent. It’s about how she melts in my arms when I kiss her.
I probe, she falls.
I tug on her lips, she whimpers.
I ravage her tongue, and she’s all pliant against me, her hand trembling on my chest, and her body becoming one with mine.
My mouth devours hers for all the time I couldn’t. For all the time she was out of reach because I was a rigid dick who only ever sees the world in black and white.
Cecily is neither. She’s the gray. She’s the colors. She’s every rainbow I never thought to stop and watch.
I kiss her because this is the only way I can show her how much different she is for me and how much her absence affected me.
The moment I wrench my lips from hers, she releases a sound, a whine, a disappointment, or something in between.
Her skin has turned redder, and she’s looking at me as if she can’t understand me.
But she wants to.
Curiosity lingers in her big green eyes, in their depths, in that tinge of innocence and otherworldly fierceness that makes her Cecily.
“Why do you keep doing this?” Raw pain bleeds from her words. “Why do you keep playing with my feelings? I’m trying to get over you. Why don’t you let me?”
“You’re not allowed to get over me, Lisichka.”
Her lips tremble. “Don’t call me that when you already let me go.”
“I didn’t.”
And then my lips find hers again. This time, I push her against the sofa, she falls onto her back with a gasp, and I follow right after.
Slowly but surely, her arms wrap around my neck, fingers splaying on the small hairs on my nape, touching, exploring.
Torturing.
Christ. This woman can turn me into a raging beast with a mere touch.
My fingers latch onto her jeans and push them down as far as possible.
It’s impossible to keep myself in check when Cecily is in my arms. When I’m tugging on her lips and tasting her sweet abandonment on my tongue.
I release her mouth so that I can remove the rest of her clothes and mine. She stares at my muscles, tattoos, and cock as her chest rises and falls harshly.
Deep down, I love how she’s attracted to me as much as I am to her. How she observes every slope of my body with a deranged hunger that mirrors mine.
No.
My need for her is much worse because I can’t resist the need to sink my teeth into her translucent skin and draw blood.
Mark her.
Own her.
So no other fucker, especially Landon, will be able to come near her.
I touch her everywhere, pinching and biting her sensitive nipples, the creamy skin of her breasts, neck, stomach, and even her clit.