As if he ever would.
But then he stands, crossing the small space between us in two strides.
He towers over me, cupping my face with one hand, the other resting on the back of my chair as he leans down. His lips brush mine with a softness that takes my breath away.
A softness I’ve yet to experience from him—or anyone else—before this moment.
The world outside ceases to exist, and for the first time since we arrived on this island, I feel something other than fear or anger.
I feel alive.
He threads his arm under mine and bands his forearm across my upper back, lifting me from my seat like I weigh nothing at all to him.
The way he manhandles me has always really done it for me, and honestly, I’m tired of fighting the way I want him.
Who knows what will happen? What will come of the situation we’re in?
I don’t know the full details of what’s going on, but I know what happened to my best friend last year, and I know he didn’t bring me here for no reason.
There’s a good possibility neither of us makes it back to the mainland and stays alive if I take into account the few things he’s shared with me.
Why shouldn’t I make the best of the situation while I still can?
If nothing else, I’ll at least be warm for a few minutes.
I wrap my legs around his waist and he walks me over to the counter, perching my ass on the edge.
He kisses me more furiously than he ever has in the past, like he’s punishing me.
Like he loves me and he’s mad about it.
And I kiss him back just as chaotically, because fuckingsame.
His big hand slides up my thigh, and under the hem of his shirt I’m wearing.
He grabs a handful of my ass and pauses, pulling back from me and resting his forehead against mine, his breath hot against my face. “Baby.” God, the way heat pools in my stomach when he calls me that. He’s called me a lot of things in the time we’ve known each other, but never that. It almost feels too soft to be coming from his mouth. “No panties?” he asks, kissing me slowly again as he scoots me closer to the edge, grinding his big cock against my core.
“You know good and damn well you didn’t bring any,” I reply between heated kisses.
He grins against my mouth, and I want to bottle the feeling it elicits so I can come back to it when we inevitably drift apart again. “Yeah,” he says, kissing me again, long and slow. “I know.”
He really drives the point home by squeezing my ass a little too hard.
He shifts his hand over the top of my thigh, running his thumb and forefinger along the crease up it before slipping his thumb between my legs.
He dips it inside me, before running it along my seam and circling my clit, groaning into my mouth as he does. My hips buck, and no part of me is ashamed of how needy I am for this man.
“You may hate me, morte mea,” he thrusts his thumb in and out. “But your pussyloveswhen I’m inside her.”
“Ever heard of hate sex?” I ask, greedily freeing his cock from his pants and pumping him once.
He shoves his way more thoroughly between my legs and notches himself at my entrance.
“Sure,” he grunts as he shoves into me,hard. “Keep fucking telling yourself that’s what this is.”
If I thought he kissed me like he was mad, it’s nothing compared to how he fucks me.
Like he’s trying to prove if I think this is hate sex, he’ll show me exactly what that feels like.
