Page 106 of Face Off With Fate

“What?” She reared back, her inky tendrils flying around, but there was nowhere for her to go. I’d caged her against my counter. “I can’t go on a date with you, Monroe…”

It was more of a question than a statement.

Something possessive and territorial bubbled up, demanding that I push for what I wanted. I didn’t give two shits how many others she’d gone out with or let buy her things—fix her things.

I just wanted a chance to show her how I would treat her.

“We both know you go on dates. Why can’t I take you out?” I lowered my head, running my nose along her throat, breathing in her sweet scent.

Now that I’d touched her, I couldn’t stop.

I nipped at the tender part near her ear, loving the moan that it pulled. The way she pressed her chest into mine, those metal barbells taunting me. I wanted to see them, taste them, roll her stiff peaks between my fingers with one hand while I filled her with the other.

But I wouldn’t do anything like that until she agreed.

“Monroe.” She said my name breathy and low, like a caress. “I didn’t even like any of those guys. I only went out with them because…” She let out another moan before pushing at my chest. “I can’t think with your mouth on me.”

“Good,” I grunted, lifting her up and setting her ass on the marble, parting her thighs so I could step between them. My mouth was back on her skin, this time the open space on her chest. “Come on, Trouble. Tell me why I can’t be the one to take you out,” I said between kisses.

Her fingers threaded through my hair, every tug sending heat straight to my cock. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to pull me away or yank me closer.

I wasn’t sure she knew either.

“I don’t date, Josh.” Another statement that sounded more like a question, as if she were uncertain of its truth.

“Clearly you do.” I ran a hand up her waist, coming to rest right under her breast, teasing her nipple through her jersey with my thumb. Loving how she tipped her head back, and the slew of words in Spanish that spilled out. I didn’t know what she said, but took it as an open invitation to run my tongue up her throat.

“No, I just—” She shook her head, like she was trying to remember what she was saying. “I just let people take me out to dinner to entertain me, because I’m…bored.”

I paused mid-kiss. The primal part of my brain had taken root, and all my focus was on the fact that she sounded disappointed—unsatisfied.

I could fix that. I could satisfy her.

“Did any of them fuck you well enough?”

“What?” she stammered, shoving back, her eyes wide.

The palm of my hand met the warmth of her thigh, and I slid my hands under her skin-tight shorts.

“Have you been fucked properly, Trouble?” With each word, my fingers traveled higher and higher. “Or is this pussy of yours needing proper attention?”

Her eyes flashed with defiance, getting me hotter. I loved when she fought back, didn’t take my shit.

“I can take care of myself,” she said, jutting her chin and curling her hands around the edge of the counter.

“Is that so? You don’t want any help at all?”

Her throat worked up and down, eyes blown out with lust as the tips of my fingers skimmed the crease where her hips met her thighs.

I stilled, quirking a brow.

“Bare.” I smirked, loving the way her body tensed as I inched closer to her center. “And fuckin’ soaked. What do you have to say for yourself, Trouble?”

“Forgot. To do. Laundry,” she panted out, head tipped back as she writhed on the marble.

I ran a single finger along her slit, and her hips tipped forward ever so slightly to meet my touch. It took every ounce of discipline not to delve knuckle-deep into her. Long, dark lashes fluttered closed, dusting her cheekbones. A whimper slipped out as she wedged her lip between her teeth.

“Fuck.”