He's right. My head lifts and I see just how far up he's taken us. If he drops me like this, it's not going to end well. That and that alone, is the only reason I finally settle, waiting until we get to the top of the fucking stairs and away from the cliffs before I redouble my efforts to get out of his arms. But it isn't until we're inside and down in the guys' personal wing of the mansion that he releases me.
"What the fuck was that about?" I demand, punching his chest the second my feet hit the floor.
"I told you," he growls, slamming his hands on the wall behind me. "I fucking warned you not to pull stupid shit. Then I see you grinding on some guy in the middle of one of our fucking parties—"
"I was not grinding on him," I snarl. "We were dancing, and what the fuck do you care? You've been MIA for the last two days. You can't just waltz back up to me and act like you didn't run like a scared little bitch."
"Yes, I fucking can." Dean reaches around me, turns the knob of my bedroom door, and a moment later, the wood is slamming into the wall as he backs me into the room and shuts it.
45
Dean
I stare down into her furious blue-gray eyes and wonder—not for the first time since I met this girl—if I've lost my goddamn mind. She makes me feel like I have. Backing her further into the room, I turn her away from the light switch, leaving everything in the shadows.
"What?" she snaps as she moves away from me only to have me step right back into her personal space.
She looks good. Tan. Pink cheeked. Sexy as fuck. It's been a fucking nightmare trying to stay the fuck away from her since we got here. Now, I have to wonder why I even fucking bothered.
“I don’t fucking do this,” I say, staring into her eyes.
“Do what?” she replies, scowling at me.
My hands find her hips and I jerk her forward until she can feel what she does to me. Even through our clothes, my cock throbs at her nearness. But, of course, she doesn’t even blink. No, not this girl. Her eyes stay on mine and even if they widen a fraction, she still doesn’t do what I expect. She remains completely impassive other than that one, singular movement.
No, impassive is the wrong word. She's not impassive. She's fucking raging inside. Angry. Wrathful. Like a war goddess that has yet to be unleashed. I give up, I think. I can't do it anymore. I can't stay away. Abel was right. There's no point in even trying. If she's working with my father and the others, then so be it. I'll risk it. I'd risk fucking life and limb just to feel all of her fucking fiery heat on my dick.
“You’re going to have to use your big boy words if you want me to understand your meaning, D-man,” she says, bringing me back to reality.
My fingers clench on her sides and I sweep them upward. I graze the outside of her breasts, where the low cut halter dress I bought for her ends and my fingers meet sweet, smooth skin. I keep going until my hands make it all the way up and wrap around either side of her neck. The feel of her pulse pounding, racing against my palms turns me on in a new way I've never experienced. "I'm tired of this," I tell her. "I'm done."
"You're done?" She narrows her cold gaze on me. "That should be my line. I'm tired of your goddamn hot and cold act. You bring me here. You ditch me. You tell everyone I'm yours—which I'm not, by the way—and then you—"
"I want you to be," I cut in.
Pink lips part and I watch as her tongue slides behind her straight white teeth. "You … want me to be what?" she repeats. As if it's un-fucking-clear. As if it's not obvious how much I want her even when my cock is straining against my zipper and pressed to her stomach.
I grit my teeth and tilt my head down. "Mine." I whisper the word. She's so close, I can smell the salt on her skin. My mouth waters. "I want you to be mine and I want to hear you admit it from your own lips."
Silence stretches between us. "Why?" she finally asks. Isn't that the million dollar question?
"Because you're annoying," I say, closing my eyes as I press my forehead to hers, holding her still. No longer does she try to back away from me. "Because you fight me. Because you're not afraid of me."
She snorts, the sound derisive and amused at the same time. "Not to burst your masculine bubble, D-man," she says, "but you're not that scary."
I open my eyes. "Not to you apparently," I reply.
"But you find me annoying," she says.
"Yes," I admit. “And sometimes, I also want to choke the fuck out of you.” As I say the words, I tighten my grip on her throat.
A dark glimmer of something only I can name enters her eyes. “Careful,” she whispers back. “I might be into it.”
“Oh, baby girl,” I say, grinning as I look down at her. “There’s no ‘might’ about it. If I do it, you’ll be into it.”
"Oh yeah?" Avalon arches one brow. "Then why don't you show me?"
"How can I resist an invitation like that?" I ask absently. The answer is: I can't. I don't give the little smartass time to answer. Instead, I lower my head and crush my mouth against hers.
My tongue pushes her lips apart and for the first fucking time in my life, I find true heaven. People say that hell is frozen over, but that isn’t true with her. She’s perfection and so much filthy wickedness, it’s a wonder neither of us burst into flames the second our lips touch.
I clench my hands on the back of her neck, angling her head the way I like as I lick at her lips. I want to consume this girl. Devour everything she is and take it into myself. I let my tongue tangle with hers, let her feel the piercing centered there. Oh, what I wouldn’t have given to be wearing a different one right now. I can just imagine how she’d come apart for me if I had a vibrating tongue ring in. I could press it right against her little clit and hold it there for eternity and feel her juices coat my face.
Electricity races through me as I slide one palm up into the dark inky blackness of her hair and I tighten my grip—pulling it as I yank her head all the way back. She gasps as her mouth pops away from mine.
“Dean…” My cock fucking throbs at the sound of my name on her lips. I press an open mouthed kiss to the pulse point of her throat. Mine. I want to stamp my name all over her ass and make sure every fucker who looks at her knows that she belongs to someone—not just any someone. Me. Her fucking King. I want her—the girl who refuses to bow to anyone. I want her to do so for me. And there’s only one way I know of, to make that happen. If I want her to bow then I've got to bend. Something I've never done before in my life.
It's not a hard decision.
Groaning into my mouth, when my palms leave her neck and move down to the backs of her thighs, Avalon doesn't fight me. In fact, she jumps, her legs opening, spreading as she catches the back of my neck with her arms and I lift her against my chest.
One step. Her tongue enters my mouth. Two steps. I can feel the heat of her pussy through our clothes. Three steps. I press her down into the surface of the bed and lay her out.
"Dean?" She frowns at me when I don't come down on top of her like she expects.