“But how?” she asks.
“I can only guess it has to do with some kind of magic.”
“Sandra,” she whispers, her gaze going hazy. “You don’t think she has anything to do with it, do you? I can’t quite figure out why she helps him. I want to trust her, but there’s always been this feeling in my gut that makes me keep my distance.”
“Good,” I snap without meaning to. “Listen to that. I don’t trust anyone close to him. I don’t give a fuck what her reasons might be, I don’t want her anywhere near you. I don’t want her to have a chance to hurt you.”
Her doe eyes blink up at me. Clearly, I’ve surprised her.
My skin is itchy. This moment has brought us too close, and I don’t know how to handle it. I stand up, taking her with me. A second later, I plop her down on my desk and head for the bar in the corner. I grab a glass of water and bring it back to her. Our fingers brush as she takes the glass from me, her eyes on mine the entire time.
“Thanks,” she whispers before taking a long sip.
I’m drawn to her. I need distance, yet my body steps closer. The scent of wild roses and sex swirls around me. I breathe it in like it’s the very essence of life. I don’t bother hiding the way mygaze drops to the point of the V between her thighs. I wonder if she’s dripping my cum.
“Donovan,” she says, setting the glass down on the desk beside her.
My eyes snap to her face. The smirk tells me she can read my thoughts. Or, perhaps, I’m just that transparent right now.
Does it make her wet that the thought of my cum still lingers inside of her is turning me on?
Given what happened earlier, this is a bad idea. We shouldn’t be this close, especially not with this toxic elixir of sex driving us closer.
Her jaw is red from where my fingers held her still not that long ago. I am more regretful than I can say. I hate myself, even knowing it was out of my control. Now that I know, it will never happen again.
Knowing there is no excuse I could ever give to make it okay, nor an amount of kisses I could give her to erase it, I try to move on. That’s when the bruises on her neck fill my vision. Oh, fuck, how she loved it when I marred her flawless skin with them.
It stirs so many different things inside of me. One is a bright warning, telling me to get some space. The other is a mark of pride. A mark saying she’s mine.
My fingers drift over her jaw. Her eyes close as she tilts her head. I continue down her neck, pressing into the thumb-shaped bruise right under her jaw.
Leaning in, I breathe her scent deep. She hums in the back of her throat as my lips graze the cool skin of her neck. I smile, feeling the skin pebble against my mouth.
“I was too rough with you,” I say as I pull back enough to take in the spot where my thumb held her neck last night. I don’t get off on hurting people. But having the power over them… yeah, that might do it for me. Astra giving up controland trusting me so easily really gets my dick hard. My sweet, innocent beauty has no idea about the Devil’s den she’s entered. I want to own her, but I want her to give it willingly.
“No,” she whispers. “I liked it.”
“I was careless,” I tell her, pulling back to hold her gaze. “You need a safe word.”
Her hand slips up my arm, cool fingers feel almost like a ghost of a touch. She presses her palm against my hand, holding it to her neck.
“I don’t need a safe word,” she boldly tells me.
Itskher, unable to resist the urge to squeeze her throat a little.
The air shifts. I feel her feeding off my slight disappointment. I pull her back with a light kiss against her plump lips.
I don’t have the first clue how to help her, or if I should. This kind of magic is new to me. I’ve never been around a natural, or if I have, I wasn’t aware of it. I’ve never seen magic at work like that. And feeling it… shit, I can’t even explain it. It’s intense but also feels so fucking dangerous.
“A safe word is useless when you’re stealing my air,” she says breathlessly as her hips begin to rock. Her lips tip up in a smirk. She thinks she’s cornered me.
“I won’t apologize. You look so pretty with my hand wrapped around your throat.”
Her gaze slides to the side, and when I turn my attention that way, it’s clear my words were never more true. In the reflection of the glass on the French doors is a sinful ghostly image of us. She’s open for me, head tilted back as if inviting me to steal her breath for a moment. To mark her with faint bruises from my fingers. She looks wrecked already, and I’ve barely started playing with her. She’s a split-second away from begging for it.
“Give me a word, Astra,” I demand as I run my nose up the side of her neck again.
Fuck, she’s too addictive.
