I spin her and pull her close against my chest. My hand slides over her sternum and feel the thunder in her heart against my palm.
“Breathe, little viper,” I murmur into her ear, my voice low, steady, slicing through the panic.
I breathe deep as if to show her how, but I’m inhaling her scent so that I can memorize this moment forever.
She matches me. Her chest rising and falling against my hand as our hearts sync, beat by beat.
The footsteps fade. A door slams shut.
And we’re alone again.
I press against her back. My cock rests against her ass, twitching back to life like it never finished. She wiggles once, subtle, daring.
Dangerous girl.
She thinks she’s in control, that she flipped the game.
My temper snaps like a live wire, broiling under my skin.
I flip her around and grip her jaw, forcing her face upward and squeezing her cheeks so that her pretty little lips are parted. The smear of blood by her lips makes them redder than before.
My palm burns, and it is the sweetest feeling in the world becauseshedid it to me.
There will never be any other place for her than in my hands. She belongs to me, so she better get used to it.
Her eyes flash, still dancing with that sharp smugness, but I see the flicker of both uncertainty and awareness in them.
Good.
I grab her wrist, her hand covered in sticky, white cum, and hold it in front of her face.
“Clean it up,” I demand.
The words land hard. She should wither under them. Anyone else would.
But not Giselle.
Not my little viper.
She raises her hand to her lips. With one slow and deliberate flick of her tongue, she licks her fingers clean. And the entire time, she never breaks eye contact.
Her defiance is exquisite.
“Like this?” She laps up the final drop of my cum from her palm.
My restraint frays.
She’s so beautiful that it fucking hurts. She makes me feel like I can break open and start bleeding from the inside out at any moment.
I want to sink my fingers into her hair and bring her bloodied lips to mine again.
Instead, I give her something else.
“Roman,” I tell her. “My name is Roman.”
I tell her mostly because I know I want her to be screaming it the next time I make her come.
She says it. “Roman.”
