a bitch.”
She flips her hair over her delicate shoulders, the space between her neck and right shoulder now marked by my teeth. As I recall, she loved the hell out of that pain-pleasure, making her hips move faster with the need to let go of the shit that goes on in her head.
“But then again, I am a bitch that didn’t change. Maybe the phone you’ve been texting is somewhere in some dump in LA. Or maybe I don’t want to fucking talk to you. I don’t know, really.”
Ah, so this is what’s going on? Her little feelings got hurt, and now she’s serving up the silent treatment and ditching me in airports like I’m a fucking fool?
I step closer to her, enjoying it when her tiny body, wearing the hell out of her leotard, tenses up. Tension radiates from her every pore, but her face in the mirror ahead still wears a neutral expression—her armor that she thinks no one notices. I do and I know that’s not what she’s feeling.
I press up against her back, bringing the hard ridge of my hard on that’s pressing against the seam of my jeans up against her firm ass.
Watching as her pupils dilate through the large mirrors, I lean in and whisper in her ear, making sure not to touch any other part of her body other than where we’re connected now.
If I do, it’ll be game over.
“You’re a dirty little thing, I know that,” I whisper as her body shudders in front of me. “But the silent treatment? What are you, eight years old?”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she grits out, her nose flaring. “And I don’t want you near me.”
“Really?” I whisper in her ear, then I press feather light kisses on the shell of her ear right before I pretend to nibble on her lobe, making her gasp. “So, why’s your breathing shallow?”
I said I wouldn’t touch her but to hell with that shit.
I wrap one arm around her waist—you can’t trust her with her fucked up mind not to fight this or worse, try to run away. Then with the other hand, I rip her fucking leotard at her thigh, and she moans. I haven’t even touched her and already she’s wet.
“Why can I smell your arousal?” I question, wanting in her right now. “You want more of me, don’t you, Little Minx?”
She doesn’t respond but a look of brazen lust transforms her face into a breathtaking mural that I want painted to hang on the ceiling over my bed, just so I can fucking come while looking at her because since she moved in, she’s been the only one that makes me feel…somewhat alive.
“If I touch you there, tell me, Little Minx, what will I find?” I grit out the words in her ear, then lick the shell, loving the way she jumps in my arms like I just electrocuted her and that goes straight to my dick.
She groans low in her chest, her ass now involuntarily rubbing up and down on my dick. She wants this, she wants me to fuck her in the middle of her large studio.
“Nothing,” she whispers, her voice now thick and breathless. “Your touch is so repulsive, I’m dry as a desert.”
“Liar,” I growl.
I hate it when she fights this. I hate it even more when she holds my gaze like she’s doing now and lies.
Pushing her panties away and whatever the hell else that’s in my way, her slickness greets me as her pussy clenches at my touch. She gasps, making me grin. Yeah baby, just like that.
She’s not just horny, she’s desperate.
“Did the meaning of dry change in the past few hours?” Because if it did, then her definition of dry is now flooded, panties ruined, and her pussy ready to be filled to the brim with me.
“Please,” she finally begs when my fingers skim right over her pussy lips, her juices making the glide so damn sensual, I know it won’t take much from me to make her come.
“Please what, Mia?” My jaw tenses up, as she increases the friction between her ass and my dick. “Please make me come because I’m a tight bitch? Or please leave me alone?”
I want her to admit it. I want her to look me in the eye and admit it—to herself—that she fucking wants this and that she wants me.
“Julian…” she moans my name like she’s already coming, then in a second, her right hand in over mine