He grabs my hands and lifts them up in the air. I grip the railing on the top of the bed.
"Don’t move those hands," he whispers into my nape. I nod and lick my lips. I'm on my tiptoes. My breath is catching and coming out spurts of rough air. His hands run down my arms. I shiver and pant. His lips brush the back of my neck. He sweeps my hair to one side, kissing down my shoulder blade. Heat and nerves battle low in my belly as his hands grip my hips, pulling me back to him.
"Don't let go of that railing, Sarah." His words are growled between kisses and licks. I hear the menacing threat in them.
He stops kissing, but his lips stay touching mine, lightly, like a feather would. "I'm bad for you, Sarah. I won't ever be the gentleman you need."
"Maybe I don’t want gentle."
He pulls something from his dress pants and presses it into my hand. "And that is my fault.
The image of him standing in the elevator doors, in his silver dress shirt and dark-grey dress pants wiping me off his lips, is the sexiest and most devastating thing I've ever seen.
Tara BrownHe steps back and sits in the chair in the corner. His grin is smug and cocky. He sits with his legs spread, like before.
"Undress." He watches me.
I take a deep breath and pull my shirt off, dropping it to the floor next to my jacket.
What are you doing?" He asks looking intimidating.
I shrug, "I want pancakes."
"I'll make you pancakes."
I laugh and turn around to walk backwards, "I don’t want your pancakes. I want normal pancakes. Not head game pancakes. Not maybe I'll make you happy or maybe I'll scare the shit out of you pancakes. You know?
I laugh nervously and jerk my hand free, "I want the you that tilts his head back and eats the snow. I want the you that holds me and snuggles into me. I want him, but you hardly ever show him to me. I see a glimpse of him and then it's you that’s back." I point disappointedly. "I want the sweet guy who puts his hand out for me."
His eyes fight something. His lips tighten, "He's in here too. I think there are a few of us.
Brandon has a shit-eating grin. I want to make him eat it. I know what's more realistic though. I'm going to get beaten up by a little boy.
Tara BrownI still can't believe you kicked me."
"I didn’t want to. I needed to."
I glance at him as we leave the dorms, "Keep telling yourself that."
He grins his cocky, shitty grin, "Keep telling yourself the paddle doesn’t turn you on."
I snort and hate that he knows so much about me. My cheeks are on fire just hearing the word paddle.
Did you make the crawl of shame?"
I open one eye and smirk, "What?"
She pulls back the covers and plucks my t-shirt, "What is this?"
I swallow and stretch and moan a little, "My…" I clear my throat, "Uhm...t-shirt."
I make duck lips and watch her.
She arches her eyebrow and shakes her head, pointing at my shirt and waggling her finger. "Nuh uh. No. I know all your dirty skeezy little orphan clothes and this shit isn’t yours." She bats her eyelashes blankly, "Spill bitch.
In the ring Tink." Lance points at me.
I sigh, "Lance…uhm…sir. My name is Sarah."
He waves me off, "We all have nicknames here. I'll never remember Sarah. But with your hair in that bun, you look like Tinkerbell.
« ; premier précédent
Page 3 de 5.
suivant dernier » ;
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.