Page 87 of Kill Feed

“You like that, baby?” He whispers against my lips.

No.

Fuck this and fuck him.

If he thinks there’s any chance in hell I’m allowing him to have his way with me again, he’s dead fucking wrong.

My fingers dig into the warm flesh encasing his windpipe, pressing and squeezing until he’s struggling for breath again. He grunts as I push him away from me. “You’re a real fucking bastard, you know that.”

He chokes on a laugh. “C’mon baby—”

“Shut your mouth,” I cut him off. “You left me tied up, ignored me. But you want to know what I think?”

“Enlighten me,” he chokes out, all while sporting a massive smirk on his lips.

I lean down, licking over the shell of his ear before whispering, “You should be the one begging for me.”

Dante shudders, and I am momentarily distracted by the red dripping down his jaw and neck.

Shit.

I sit back up, taking note of not only his straining dick but the amount of blood, my blood, smeared and dripping over his skin. The crimson painting the canvas that is Dante has me so mesmerized that my brain switches to autopilot. My grip loosens, and my right hand slides up his jaw. Dante steadies his breathing as I allow him air. My blood-slick fingers paint trails over his chin and to his lips, coating his mouth in my blood.

Those same blood-stained fingers slip between his lips, and he welcomes them hungrily. Dante’s tongue darts out and laps over the digits. I shudder; my cock is at full attention now. Every part of him that touches me is searing my skin like hot iron. And I am intoxicated by the pleasure and pain haze that coats over my senses. The deep cut on my hand burns every time that devilish tongue passes over it.

Shaky breaths roll off my lips, and my hips start moving languidly over his. Dante’s chestnut eyes never leave my face; he watches me so intently it makes my skin prickle.

“I like you like this,” I dare to tease, “can’t talk shit when my fingers are in your mouth.” I mean to sound more mocking, but I'm practically panting between words. But my fun has to end as I pull my fingers from his mouth.

“I’m gonna fuck you so fucking hard,” he rasps, eyes dark and breathing labored. I shift on top of him.

“Oh, you think it’s that easy,” I wipe his spit from my finger on his shirt, “you’ve not done anything to earn me.”

He thrusts his hips up sharply, and I yelp embarrassingly.

“I know you want this too, Adrian.” He unhooks his fingers from the loops on my jeans and smooths his palms over my inner thighs, causing my muscles to twitch beneath his touch.

I do want him.

But not like this.

“Beg for it,” I command. He looks at me, perplexity etched onto his features, and a beat passes before he speaks again.

“What?”

“If you want it so bad, then fucking beg for it like a dog.” For a moment I think he’ll throw me off and leave with his dignity and inhibitions intact.

“Woof.” His grin stretches. “Is this what gets you going, my little stray?”

I shake my head. “I’m not your fucking stray, and you’re not getting anything from me unless you beg like the mutt you are.”

Dante’s eyes darken even further. His right hand reaches under my shirt to smooth over my abdomen.

“Please let me fuck you.” he thrusts up again. “Can’t you feel how hard I am for you?”

I do.

And the memory of him jerking his dick is stuck on replay in my brain. God, I want to see it again. “Take your cock out and show me.”