Honestly, I'd already lost my mind. Now the only question was whether I'd walk into the madness losing him, or else losing myself on his flesh, losing my entire world on him as he filled me, stretched me, clawed at my flesh, and split my mind in two on his dick.
I couldn't kill him. No fucking way. This whole thing was crazy and I didn't know if there even was a way out alive anymore, but more bloodshed wasn't the answer.
I turned the knife over in my hand, holding it up. With a heavy sigh, I lowered it, trying to find some way to retract the blade.
I never heard him wake up, much less climb off the sofa. He crashed into me from behind, flattening my hand holding the blade. I jerked once and flipped over, surprised I hadn't screamed.
We were face to face. He was shirtless and magnificent, pure hellfire in his expression, dark tattoos running up and down his muscular chest. He'd landed between my legs – the last place in the world he should be, especially when I had nothing on underneath my long sleeping shirt except my panties and filthy desires blazing in my belly.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled, eyeing the blade in my hand.
It was still tilted up, sturdy, his hand pinning down my wrist. “I don't...I just saw it laying there and wanted to see what it was. I didn't mean to do anything, Brass. Honest.”
He stared deep into my eyes and shook his head. Finally, he threw his hand away, but not before pulling my wrist up, aiming the dagger at the tight packed muscles on his abdomen.
“Bullshit. I know a person mulling a kill when I see one.” His breaths came heavy, and he spoke slow, soft. “Fucking do it if this is what you want. Put me outta my goddamned misery and leave. Do it!”
My hand shook against his. I tried to release my fingers, drop the knife, get away from him, but he wouldn't let me. He pulled it closer, dragging the very tip of the killer blade to his chest, right above his heart.
“One more fucking push, and you're free. This is what you want, right, babe?”
“No!” I wasn't sure how I managed to keep my voice down without screaming in his face.
It came out sharp, hit him in the face. Brass' hand squeezed, bending my knuckles in, and then let go. The knife fell onto the carpet next to me. When I looked down to see it, I realized my whole body was shaking underneath him.
“Can't say I never gave you a chance, Missy,” he said, peeling back and hovering over me, his hands planted on the floor. “Wake me up when you know what you want.”
The smug tension in his voice struck deep, setting off a bomb inside me. Next thing I knew, I jerked up, threw my arms around his neck, and smashed my mouth on his.
Our lips touched like lightning criss-crossing the sky.
Brass' mouth was hard, unmoving for a single second, and then he parted his lips and grunted. His arms slid around me, pulling me up, smashing my breasts against his chest as he pushed my lips apart with his tongue.
God, he was hungry. I'd never been kissed like this. But then, no other man had kissed me after holding a knife to his heart before, baring everything, life and death and lust.
Brass growled, lowering me to the floor, reaching up to my long brown hair. He tangled several strands in one fist and ripped my head back, all the better to access my lips, shoving his tongue deeper into my mouth.
He licked the way I imagined he fucked. Rough, fast, and totally dominant. There was no playful tease in these kisses, no gentle build. His teeth nipped at my bottom lip, holding me open for his tongue. He found mine and led in a fiery dance, licking against my soft, wet tongue until I had to follow him, kissing him the way he wanted.
No mistake: I wanted it hard. I wanted to kiss and feel and fuck. I was done thinking.
It was the best alternative in the world to screaming and beating at his chest, crying like a broken fool on the floor. He saved me from all that – he saved me. Again.
All my blazing emotions shot to my heart, where they were ejected as pure lust, a powerful need to feel him all over me.
For once, Brass and I were on the same wavelength too. Our flesh sang in unison, tense and ready.
After a couple minutes on my lips, his free hand moved, starting at my knee and sliding straight up. His calloused hand kissed my thigh, on its way to the soaked black lace between my legs. He growled through his kiss as he shoved my gusset aside and rubbed two fingers up and down my slit, a short, rhythmic test before he pushed them inside me.
Fuck! Oh. My. God!
I grunted in his mouth as he worked through my folds. My * wrapped around his fingers and shifted each time he went a little deeper. His strokes were soft at first, but quickly grew faster and harder, dipping in and out in long jerks until his thumb pressed on my clit.