Buttons and Pain (Buttons 3)

As appetizing as that sounded, I didn’t want sticky processed cheese all over me. “The sooner you do it, the sooner it’s over. You’re just afraid you’re actually going to like it.”

“Believe me, I’m not going to like this horseshit.”

“I didn’t know if I was going to like Italian food but I still tried.”

He rolled his eyes. “Everyone likes Italian food. Pasta is king.”

I nodded at his bowl. “And what do you think is in there?”

He gave me a solid look right in the eye. “Horseshit.”

I set my bowl on the kitchen island between us and put both hands on my hips. The small monster instead me came out, claws and fangs exposed. “Take a bite.”

“Or what?” His eyes immediately went to my mouth, his thoughts automatically turning sinister the moment things became tense.

“Nothing good.”

He fought against the emerging smile and finally took a bite. He shoved the noodles into his mouth and slowly chewed before he did a dramatic swallow. With an unreadable expression, he took his time.

“Well?” There was no way he wasn’t going to love it.

He set the bowl down and looked me right in the eye. “Horseshit.”

I threw my eyes down in ferocity. “You’re such a liar.” I chased him around the kitchen island and swatted him with a dish towel. “You liked it and you know it.”

He ran around to avoid the bite of the towel. As I chased him, he laughed. It was one of the rare times I actually heard that hearty chuckle come from deep in his throat. His smile was infectious, for a moment I got a glimpse of what he might have been like as a child. He was playful and happy, the light burning bright in his soul. “Button, I love you. But I don’t love your cooking.”

“I’ll make you regret that.” I chased him past the counter and further into the kitchen. I wound up the towel then struck him right on the ass. He wore snug jeans, and the towel made a loud pop once it hit the denim.

He suddenly turned around and grabbed me by the back of the neck. With the strength of a soldier he bent me over the counter and threw my dress up in a single motion. The towel was snatched from my grasp before he slapped it across my bare ass.

I tensed as the pain shot down my thighs and up my back. The bite of the material was strong enough to leave a welt, but the shock of the collision made my pussy clench in longing. He hadn’t been aggressive with me since I left for America and I missed that dark side of him. It was satisfying and terrifying all at the same time.

Crow pressed his chest into my back then rubbed my ass with his long fingers. His breaths filled my ear, his excitement evident in every single pant. “Did you like that?”

I didn’t let a single second of silence linger. “Yes.”

He turned me around then lifted me onto the counter. He wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled my chest to his until our faces were touching. His hands moved up and down my body, feeling me everywhere like I was only his to feel. They grazed over my tits through my t-shirt then finally stopped at my neck. He brushed his lips against mine, slowly teasing me before he gave me the kiss I longed for.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and felt his mouth move against mine. With restrained intensity he kissed me slowly. His lips felt mine with purposeful touches, and he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth playfully before he released it. He was a god at everything, but when was Zeus when it came to kissing. He could give me the most scorching embraces without even using his tongue. He always saved that for the climax of the embrace. When he released a tiny moan into my mouth I was immediately soaked for him. Finally, he gave me some of his tongue and brushed it against mine with practiced experience and made my heart flutter wildly in my chest.

Unexpectedly, he pulled away and removed his scotch soaked lips. With amber eyes dark and rich like a glass of his favorite drink he stared me down without blinking. He glanced my lips, the corner of my mouth, then rested his look on my eyes. Both of his palms cupped my face as he leaned in. “I love you.”

My chest heaved with the deep breath that just burned my chest. When he first said those words to me I cherished them like a holy blessing. He didn’t repeat them after that night, not when he went to work in the morning or before he went to sleep beside me. It was a one-time thing, and I hoped I’d have the opportunity to hear that confession again. Thankfully, I did. “I love you too.”