Page 81 of Brutal
But I don’t.
Then he releases my neck and his mouth is on mine, his tongue prying my lips open.
The kiss isn’t gentle. Already I know Samson Vexley doesn’t do gentle.
It’s pressure and heat and intent, as if he’s been holding this back longer than either of us wants to admit.
My back hits the wall again, same as yesterday.
But nothing about this feels the same. There’s no restraint, no thoughts of stopping.
I curl my fingers into the fabric of his black shirt. Our tongues are tangling, our breathing rapid.
He breaks the kiss abruptly. “Tell me to stop,” he says.
“Stop.” But I don’t move. I don’t back down.
“Too late.” And his mouth is back on mine.
That’s when everything shifts.
I’ve woken the beast.
19
SAMSON
Stop.
She said the word. But I didn’t hear a command. I heard a breathless rasp. I saw no indication that she meant it.
Is that for me to say? Probably not, but I’m not stopping. Because I don’t fucking care. I want this, and I don’t give a shit about anything else in this moment.
Her hands are still on me. Her body is still pressing back. Her mouth is still open.
That’s not resistance.
I don’t believe she wants to stop. I don’t believe anything except what I feel under my hands. Against my body. The heat, the tension.
My cock is hard as a fucking rock, and I’m not stopping.
Not now. Not in a few minutes.
Not until I take what I want. What I fucking need.
I grab her wrist hard to remind her that she stepped into this. Into me.
She asked for it.
I punish her with my mouth. I consume her, devour her, dare her to get away.
She won’t.
The kiss is hard and demanding. Our mouths are crushed together, our tongues wrapped around each other’s, our teeth clashing.
Fuck…
I move my grip from her wrist and slide my hand up her arm. I dig into her flesh, just enough to feel her muscles tense.
