“I didn’t. That’s right. And yet, you took it upon yourself to play it, anyway.” He gives a slight shake, his lips peeling back with his anger. “Why?”
“It’s a beautiful song. So haunting, I hear it every time I close my eyes. And I’m sorry I played without your permission. It was wrong of me. Please forgive me.”
“What did he say to you?” he asks through clenched teeth, cluing me in to what I’d bet is the real source of anger pulsing through him.
“Mayor Boyd? Nothing, really. He just talked about his daughter.”
“What about his daughter?”
“Just that he misses her. What’s wrong?”
Hand to my throat, he lifts my chin, amber eyes drilling into mine. Licking his lips, he breathes hard through his teeth, the mask concealing his face enough that I can’t get a sense of whether he’s pissed at me, or Boyd. “He touched you. Why did he touch you?”
“He asked if he could hug me.”
“And you said yes? You allowed him this comfort?”
“Yes. Though, I’m not going to lie, I regretted it immediately.”
A tiny fissure cracks his veneer. Jealousy practically oozes out of him like a dangerous poison to anyone who dares touch it.
“And what about me? Would you regret it, if I kissed you right now?” His pride dangles before me like a flitting string, one I want to recklessly pull to see what it means to unravel this man.
“Are you asking my permission?”
“I don’t ask for anything. When I want something, I take it.”
The intensity staring back at me through the holes in his mask is nearly sex itself. Never has a man looked at me this way, with such possession.
“Then, what are you waiting for?”
Warm lips crush mine in a kiss that demands my surrender, as he keeps his hand propped at my throat. His other hand slides up the slit of my dress, his finger hooking the string of my panties and pulling them down my thighs. The fragile bands dig into my flesh as he nudges my legs apart with his knee.
Beneath his sensual touch and the longing in his eyes lies something filthy and depraved. Tension and hostility radiate from every pore in his body, and it suddenly occurs to me why. He can’t control himself. If he could, he’d have left me at the mercy of Mayor Boyd.
A part of me wants to laugh at the victory, but the sad truth is, I’m just as weak as he is.
The moment his fingertips make contact with my bare skin, he groans into my mouth, while gathering up the slick arousal that belongs to him. “You always have to be fucking wet, don’t you?” The air of violence in his voice stokes my excitement for some reason, I can’t explain why.
The very thought that my arousal turns him on feels like a whole lot of power in my hands. “Maybe you should stop, if it makes you so angry.”
“I can’t stop. All I think about is this.” He drives his finger up inside of me, and I arch into him on a moan. “Day and night, I think about your taste. Your scent. The softness of your skin against my tongue.”
“You said you love the torture. Now you don’t?”
“I’m beyond torture. I’m on the brink of madness,” he says, in a voice that sounds like he’s on the verge of cracking. Squeezing my throat tighter lifts my chin into the air, my mouth gaping for a breath, and he closes his lips over mine once again. In and out, his fingers pump into me, the wet sucking slide and our harsh mingling breaths the only sound between us. “I have to fuck you. I shouldn’t. It’s wrong. But I have to.”
Releasing me, he lowers to his knees and throws off the mask. The second he lifts my dress at the slit, the cool summer air hits my bare sex, and at the tearing sound, I look down to see he’s broken the string of my panties. The garment falls to the ground beside us, and he hikes my leg up, his movements frantic and rushed, as if he fears he’ll stop himself any moment.
Soft lips clamp to my clit, and as his tongue drags over the sensitive bit of flesh, my belly clenches, and I reach down to grab a handful of his hair. “Oh, God!”
He laps up my juices, tonguing my flesh as though he can’t bear to leave one drop behind. His scars tickle my