“Do that again,” he breathes into my ear, a slight strain lacing his voice. “And I’ll fuck you in front of everyone.”
I scoff, my voice just as soft, just as strangled. “You wouldn’t.”
There has to be a line, somewhere. One that not even Kal Anderson will cross, and something tells me fucking your boss’s daughter—a mafia don, no less—while he watches might be the ultimate form of disrespect.
“I would, and you’d love every filthy second of it.”
Okay, then.
He pushes my chin up more, capturing me with his eyes; they’re so dark, endlessly devoid of color, it’s like staring into two black holes and trying to maintain solid footing. “I’m not your enemy, little one.”
“You’re not my friend, either.”
A muscle thumps beneath his left eye, and his gaze drops to my lips. “No,” he agrees, sliding his hand so his thumb brushes over my mouth, plucking my bottom lip like a guitar string. “I’m your husband.”
Before I have a chance to protest—not that there’s anything that I can say anyway, since I did finish my vows—his hand glides around my head, tangling in my hair, and he crashes his mouth to mine.
I’m so startled by the assault that I don’t react, at first. Kal isn’t a kisser. Even the night he took my virginity, debased me in what I thought was every way possible, his lips never once touched mine.
Sure, they slid across every inch of my skin, caressed my most sensitive flesh, and spoke affirmations to my soul, but he hadn't kissed me.
Now that he is, I don’t quite know what to make of it.
The kiss is gentle, almost sweet, as he eases me into the language of it, guiding my movements before I can fully relax and take part. His fist tugs on my roots, angling me for better access as he coaxes and teases, and my hands reach up to his chest.
I push, reflexively trying to extract myself, and then he’s shifting, smothering, consuming me with his heat, deepening the kiss. My breath catches in my throat as his tongue pushes past my lips, entwining with my own.
It laves over the backs of my teeth, the roof of my mouth, its tip leaving me tingling.
The arm around my waist crushes me to him, fitting our hips together, and the last remnants of my resolve crumble as I melt into it.
Into him.
Our teeth clatter and scrape, the dull sound of a primal coupling creating a low heat in my belly. Tiny kaleidoscopes of bright, neon colors burst behind my eyelids as we wrestle for dominance, our mouths fighting a war my mind doesn’t quite understand.
It’s almost painful, this kiss. Painful in the way being with Kal has so far proven to be—a sharp, sudden ache that feels like being torn open and ripped apart, but your body craves the sensation.
Like you need it to survive.
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