Doll Parts (The Game 4)

KC went rigid.

Swallowing dryly, I acted on instinct and pulled his face down to mine. “Anything—just don’t leave me.” Then I kissed him. I kept one arm looped around his neck, and I pressed myself impossibly closer to him while I willed him to respond to the kiss.

Kiss me back. Crave me as much as I crave you.

“Noa—” He choked.

“No,” I growled. “Please.” Fuck. I was shattering. I was losing him. I whimpered. “I can’t lose you.”

“Jesus fuck.” His voice came out raw, echoing in my head, stealing my focus—until I noticed a shift. “You’re not losing me.” He cupped my face like he did sometimes when he wanted me to really listen, to really pay attention. Except he didn’t speak. He kissed me back. I felt his warm lips moving against mine, I felt his turmoil, and then I tasted his surrender.

Shivers upon shivers rocked through my body. It was unlike anything I had ever felt, like a million mental orgasms and Fourth of July fireworks at the same time.

I didn’t know if I climbed him, if he picked me up, or it was a joint effort, but then I was wrapped around him, and he was spinning me and pushing me up against the door. I heard my own needy little sounds mingling with his labored breaths. His five-o’clock shadow rasped against my skin with each demanding kiss, and I ached. I ached fucking everywhere. In my head, my heart, my skin, in my pants… I moaned into the kiss when I felt him pushing against me.

It was all too frenzied, yet I couldn’t bring myself to slow anything down. His tongue moving seductively and demandingly alongside my own short-circuited my ability to function, and I took what he gave me. It was fucking heaven.

Now I just wanted his cock pushing in and out of me, his body weight making me one with my mattress.

He grabbed my jaw and kissed me so hard that it hurt, but the carnal hunger in him surpassed everything else. I already craved it more than air.

“Christ, what am I doing—” He groaned and suddenly grew still. Before I knew it, my feet were back on the ground, and he swore viciously under his breath as he backed away and pinched the bridge of his nose.

I panted. What was wrong? Come back here right now! I licked my lips, zeroing in on his mouth. I felt the damage his scruff had done to my cheeks. My skin was more sensitive and raw. Delicious.

“Say you’re gonna fuck me,” I rasped. “I need it so bad.”

He made eye contact briefly, and his eyes looked as wild as I felt. Addictive. Savage. Just take me. Let’s stay here and fuck all night. Mark me, scratch me up, throw me around, let’s leave humanity behind, Daddy. I needed him to claim every part of me.

His jaw tensed, and he stared at me once more, lingering this time, and he returned to me and cupped my cheeks in his hands. His touch was gentler now, much gentler.

I was utterly trapped by his gaze, mesmerized by how he could appear both feral and in control.

“My wonderful little animal,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I did this to you.”

I blinked.

He hesitated, then dipped down slowly and brushed his lips to mine. He drew aimless little circles with his thumbs, inching closer to my mouth. Was I breathing? I couldn’t tell. I was transfixed. Hypnotized. Shit, I caught myself swaying in place. What was he doing to me? He pulled away if I tried to kiss him back. So I stopped. I just stood there, useless, while he explored. The tip of his tongue swept into my mouth and tickled my own tongue, drawing more shudders from me.

Be still.

Don’t move an inch.

My breath hitched as I thought of his kinks.

But before I could play along, he sighed and broke away again.

“This was a mistake, freckles. I’m very sorry.”

Nooo, he was wrong!

“Kiss me more,” I demanded, barely recognizing my own voice. I sounded like I’d been screaming at a concert for two hours.

KC shook his head and scrubbed his hands down his face. “This—fuck, this was wrong. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

Panic tinted the edges of my vision, and I could see on his face there was no use in arguing. He was closing himself off. He’d made his decision.

I’d lost him.

PROLOGUE 2

EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO

Noa Hayles

I didn’t want the next time I saw KC to be in a hospital room when he was attached to a bunch of machines breathing for him.

I couldn’t fucking stop weeping.

“He’s gotta be okay,” I cried.

“He will be.” Lucian’s firm voice brooked no argument, so KC had no choice. He was gonna recover. “They wouldn’t have moved him back home if his condition was too critical. Remember that.”