Page 123 of Dangerous Men

I want to touch more of her. I need to touch more.

I flick my knife closed, sliding it back in my pocket for now, and run my other hand up her leg. She’s wearing a flowy little dress, a modest cut to the knee, and it offers so little resistance when I slip my hand under there, up the smooth skin of her outer thigh.

She’s tense under my touch, soft, scared little thing. Her body goes stiff, muscles rigid, and I’m distracted enough by her soft skin that I don’t notice the danger in it. Not until she shifts her weight to one foot and slams her knee between my legs with all her strength.

For a few seconds, all I can see are stars. The pain is electric. It knocks the air right out of me, my body curling over itself as I dry heave.

So many stars.

Our little rabbit takes advantage of the moment, scrambling away, but the second the initial wave of pain passes, I erupt with laughter.

The rabbit has claws.

Oh, whatfun.

It gets even better. Groaning, I straighten back up, reaching down to grip myself and make sure everything is still there, and I notice our rabbit isn’t running back to the safety of her warren, or out of the alley to get help.

No. She runs to a pile of trashed furniture abandoned in the alley and grabs a broken table leg, brandishing it at me like a baseball bat.

“Don’t come any closer,” she warns. She gives the piece of debris a test swing, threatening me with it.

Fuck. This time, I’m not gripping myself to check for damage at all. I stroke myself through the fabric of my jeans as I walk forward, letting her see me do it. Her eyes dart down to watch me, face going tense. She raises her makeshift weapon higher, ready to strike.

It takes nothing more than a flick of my wrist to yank it out of her hands. I toss it away, down the alley, watching her face fall as it clatters over the pavement. Maybe I should have let her hit me with it. It’s nothing more than cheap plywood, probably wouldn’t have left a bruise, and it would have shown her exactly how pointless it is to fight me.

Now, she’s terrified.

“I see it now,” I console her, still laughing. She backs up until she hits the brick wall, and I’m right there with her, pressing her hard against it, feeling her body tense against mine.

Hands on the backs of her thighs, I lift her up, spreading her wide enough to fit myself right up against her. Idon’t want her to run, not again. And I want her to feel what her little outburst did to me.

I roll my hips, pressing my hard cock into her center. She trembles so deliciously against me.

She’s not going anywhere, not when I have her pinned between me and the wall. I reach my hand up to cup her face, staring into those soft brown eyes.

“I see what they see,” I tell her, running my thumb over her sweet, red lips. I expect to see a smear of lipstick, but that’s all her. All that plump, delicious color.

I groan, bending down to take her bottom lip between my teeth. She makes the most wonderful sounds as I bite down.

When I let go, there’s a nice juicy red drop of blood sliding down her chin, and that’s so much better than any smeared lipstick.

Her breathing is fast and erratic, heart pounding in her chest. She’s scared, sure, there’s no question about that.

But one look in her eyes, at those dark liquid pupils, and I know she’s feeling something much sweeter than just fear.

I roll my hips again, and the little whimper she gives me in answer is sweet enough to almost make me come.

“What…what do you want from me?” she asks, trembling.

I laugh, hard enough my shoulders and chest shake with it. What do I want?What do I want?

I press her harder against the wall, ducking my head so I can nuzzle into the soft, vulnerable skin of her neck.

“Everything,” I hiss.

The sound she makes in response could be from either pleasure or fear. It doesn’t matter. It’s all the same to me.

Fuck, her skin is so soft. I bite down on her neck, wanting to taste her blood, wanting to know what her fear tastes like on my tongue.