“Don’t hide from me,” he orders. “Never hide from me.”
“You kissed me back,” I quip defensively, pain tainting my words as his eyes trail over my face.
“I wish I hadn’t,” he says on a whisper, making me ache even more.
I try to push him off me, but the weight of his looming body is too damned heavy.
“You’re upset about a fucking kiss while your cum is still inside me?!” I yell, letting my hurt do the talking for me, as I punch his chest with all my might. He grabs my wrists and pulls my arms to the side, placing one sweet kiss on each of them before letting them go.
“My cum inside you makes you mine. You kissing me makes me yours.”
I scoff as his wretched slanted grin just taunts me further.
“Don’t ever work for Hallmark, Easton. You suck at being romantic,” I curse at him as his eyes fall on my lips again.
He shocks me into silence when he leans down and kisses me tenderly. This kiss is soft and gentle, mimicking the same feeling I have dwelling in my heart for him. Logic tells me that falling in love with Easton Price is the worst mistake I’ll ever make, my lips don’t care. My body doesn’t care, and neither does my heart. He pulls away and leans his temple to mine, breathing hard.
“I should have kissed you the first day I saw you,” he softly hushes, his words wrapping themselves around my heart, making it weak. “But I knew that once I did, I could never let you go.”
“Kiss me again,” I beg.
Easton lets out a low growl and then traps my lips in his. I melt into him as he cages me, his mouth taking mine hostage. I’m left breathless and wanting as his kiss takes me under his spell. Like the true devil he is, Easton dominates me, body and soul.
“Scar,” he utters lovingly between kisses, my name sounding like a prayer and a curse.
“Just kiss me, Easton. Don’t stop,” I plead, my fingers rummaging through his hair, digging into his scalp.
He pulls my arms over my head, binding my wrists with one hand, as he continues to kiss me with such fervor that I may combust from this kiss alone.
It says everything that he can’t.
That he wants me.
Needs me.
Loves me.
His lips never leave mine as his hand pulls my leg to cradle his waist, leaving me open for his intrusion once more. When I feel him breach my wet core, I sigh into his mouth, and he eats it up. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, possessing me in a way like never before. Tears start prickling my eyes when I realize what we’re doing—making love in a way he thinks I deserve. He continues to worship my body with each intentional, lazy thrust while his passionate kiss pulls at my heartstrings.
Silent tears fall down my cheeks as he continues to love me. He breaks away from our kiss, just to lick my tears from my face, his own eyes tormented with the same emotion I feel.
It’s too much.
It’s way too much.
And before I can stop it, I’m cumming for a third time tonight.
He follows me over, and my heart breaks when he utters my name with divine worship. Easton falls back down on top of me, placing chaste kisses on every part of my face. My eyelids, my cheeks, the tip of my nose, and finally, my hungry lips. Time stands still as we continue kissing until there are no more lies between us. When sleep finally takes me, he nestles his body behind me, holding me so close that it feels like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
“You changed the rules on me,” Easton whispers, running his fingers through my hair. I don’t dare say a word, preferring just to focus on his ragged heartbeat. “You shouldn’t have done that, Scar.”
“Why not?”
“Because I will only bring you pain.”
“Didn’t you once tell me pain can feel good, too?”
“Nothing good can come from loving me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He pulls me to him, my head placed on his shoulder.
“You should, Scar. You deserve better than the hell I have to offer.”
“I’m not afraid of the flames. You, above anyone else, should know that by now.”
A long stretch of silence ensues, and I wish I knew what he was thinking.
“I should take you home,” he finally says somberly, his hold on me still unyielding.
I am home.
But instead of telling him how I feel, I bite my bottom lip to keep the words at bay, closing my eyes just to stay in this moment a minute longer.
When I wake up the next morning, I’m disappointed to be back in my own bed. Easton is no longer sleeping beside me, his absence making my heart fall to the pit of my stomach.
Last night we shared too much. Maybe more than he could handle. I just need to bring us back to that place where everything was simpler and our feelings weren’t involved. I think long and hard on what I can do to get him there when an idea pops into my mind.
I take my phone and place it on top of the dresser, making sure it has a full view of my bed. I lie back and let my hands run up and down my naked body, imagining they are Easton’s. I feel his lips on me, his tongue playing with my pussy, invading it like he’s about to conquer newly discovered land. Envisioning Easton’s gray eyes on me, I cum shouting his name.
It takes me a few minutes to regain my senses, and I feel a pang of sadness that he’s not here to hold me.
I get up, wrap my robe around me, and pick up my phone. I don’t check the video and just send it to him with the text—I wish you were here.
I see that he reads it, but he doesn’t reply.
Melancholy wraps its ugly shawl over my shoulders as I get ready for school, trying my best not to read too much into his silence—even if it feels as if it’s the loudest thing I’ve ever heard.
I feel his presence even before my eyes land on his devilish, slanted grin. As I continue to place the chairs in a circle around the small assembly hall, my gaze flicks over to the man whose sterling stare melts me into a pool of desire. I swallow dryly as I continue with my routine while discreetly admiring the view.
Leaning back against a wall, with his arms crossed at his chest, Easton looks like an avenging archangel ready for the final battle between heaven and hell.
He’s Michael.
Gabriel.
Lucifer.
My own hauntingly beautiful and salacious devil.
My heart rattles in its cage as I put the last chair in place to complete the AA circle, impatient to see what he’s going to do. His predatory gaze sears into me as he leans away from the wall only to close the door at his side, guaranteeing that no one will interrupt whatever sinful thought is crossing his mind. In sure, long strides, he walks over to the ring of chairs at the center of the room, his lithe, feline movement revealing the predator in my midst. I don’t say a word as he begins to circle around the chairs opposite to me, our game of cat and mouse in full effect.
“I thought you were a good girl,” he rasps mockingly as we begin to play this twisted, hot-as-hell version of musical chairs.
“I am.”