Carefully, I stood. “Go fuck yourself, Ronan,” I said quietly and walked toward the bathroom. I didn’t hear him until he had me by the elbow, turning me around. I pulled away, my arm rising to wipe that fucking smug look off his face, but he wrapped his arms around me so I couldn’t smack him.

“I’m trying to do what’s right, Poppy,” he whispered into my hair. “And you make it so damn hard.”

“You don’t need to say those things anymore,” I said.

“What things?”

“The things you say just to hurt me. You don’t need to push me away. I know how this ends.”

He brushed the hair off my face. “I’m trying to make it easier, I think.”

“For me?”

“For me.”

He kissed me and I would consider this later, how I handed him the tools to hurt me over and over again, but his kiss was impossible to resist. He walked me backward to the bed and I felt like I’d never been in danger like this before. Like if I moved wrong, he could take out my heart. Every bit of it.

He laid me down on the bed and stood over me.

“If you’re going to leave, just leave,” I said. “I’m tired of you.”

“I’m not going to leave you.” He pulled off his sweater, revealing his chest and the way his life had left its mark on him. Brutal scars and hard muscles. “And you’re not tired of me. Not at all.”

“Yes, I am. You’re boring.”

“That’s not what you think when you’re coming all over my face.”

“It is. It’s exactly what I think.” I had no idea why I was doing this. Why I was pushing and pushing and pushing. I yawned. “I think I’ll just take a nap—”

He grabbed the sweatpants I wore and yanked them off me. The fabric ripped. I shrieked in surprise. “Those are my only pants!”

“If I want you naked, you’ll be naked.”

“Oh my God.” I rolled my eyes.

He put his knee on the bed. “What will I find between your legs?” he whispered.

I curled right up and put my hands over my body. “My dry, cold, bored vagina.”

“I don’t think so, Poppy. I think you’re sopping wet. I think you’re so hot you’ll burn me. I think one touch, and you’ll beg.”

“One touch, and I’ll fall asleep,” I said, and when he touched my leg, I flipped over and scrambled for the other side of the bed, careful as I could be of my shoulder. Fruitless, but the fight was the point. He was hard under those dark pants, and between my legs, my desire hummed at a fever pitch.

“Oh no,” he said and grabbed my leg, pulling me backward. My sweatshirt got pulled up and with my good arm, I reached for the far side of the bed, trying to claw myself away. But then he climbed up my legs and sat on the tops of my thighs and spanked me.

Hard.

“You motherfucker,” I snapped, trying to buck him off.

“Keep fighting, Poppy. I do like it when you fight.”

So, it would seem, by the energy I could feel in my clit, did I. I pressed my pussy down against the mattress and bit my lip against a groan.

His hands cupped the bottom of my ass and I felt absurdly vulnerable. And absurdly turned. I gave him another half-hearted buck, which only made him laugh.

“You have a beautiful ass, Poppy.”

“Well, you can kiss it.” I snarled.

And he did. My snarl turned to a gasp and then to a low, throaty animalistic sound as his soft lips, scratchy jaw, and damp breath all made their way across my skin, from the tops of my thighs to my lower back. Again, I pressed myself against the mattress, seeking pleasure.

“No,” he said and curled his hands under my hip bones, lifting me off the mattress. “Not yet.”

“Fuck you,” I said, without any convincing heat.

The game was over. The game had been a stupid ruse, but to some degree, the game kept me safe.

He kissed my spine. Bit the left cheek of my ass. Then the right. I whimpered low and needy, trying to arch into him and the bed. His hand left my hip, pressing along my back to my shoulder blades, and finally grabbed a fistful of my hair.

The sting only added to everything.

He leaned up to whisper in my ear. “What do you want?”

“You.”

“No, Poppy. You don’t want me. You want to come.”

“I want you to make me come.”

He lay down over my body, his weight pushing me into the mattress. He kicked my legs out wide and I felt the scratch of his denim against my thighs. The heat of his naked chest against my back. The hard press of his cock against my ass.

“It’s not . . .” I pushed down against the mattress and up against him. “It’s not enough.”

Tags: Molly O'Keefe Hearts Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net