Page 20 of Hostile Cravings (Wicked Cravings #3)

Chapter Ten

ANGIE

T yson’s hold on me was powerful. His hand had mine pinned against the tile, his other hand was holding my leg against his thigh in a grip so tight I was quivering.

There was an intensity to him that was two-fold what it normally was, like something had cracked in him when I’d gone down on him.

Watching him come as I’d had him in my mouth had been one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen.

Everything about Tyson was sexy and having that control over him had heightened the experience.

I’d loved every second, even the aggressive face fucking he’d given me. I was so wet I’d almost come with him.

Now, as he devoured my breast, his hands holding me, I was so close to losing it I didn’t think I could take much more before he destroyed me completely.

I tightened my leg around him, ignoring the flare of pain in my ankle as my heel dug into his ass.

He loosened his hold on my thigh, his hand caressing my ass before his fingers slid into me.

I jerked against him, and he chuckled against my breast. His fingers wrapped around the fingers of my other hand as he held it pinned to the wall, and I absently wondered at how perfectly my hand fit in his.

The fire in me flared, looking for the release his fingers promised when they rubbed my clit.

I cried out, my body shaking as the climax built in me, but he smothered my cry with his mouth, his kiss greedy and demanding.

A demand I answered until his mouth dropped against my neck, the warmth of his tongue sending goosebumps pebbling over my skin.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, that nickname doing what it always did to me, melting me with the ownership it now held, the claim that was inherent in it.

“You’re killing me.” His voice was muffled, but I heard the desperation in it, the admittance that whatever this was between us had crossed so far past the line that he couldn’t deny it any more than I could.

Yet we both would, because that’s who we were.

His fingers left me, and I couldn’t stop my disappointed cry.

But he only laughed, lowering his body, his tongue tracing my skin until he was on his knees.

My body shook in anticipation because his tongue was amazing and the climax it had evoked from me earlier in the day had been better than any I’d had.

Lifting my leg, he tossed it over his shoulder and grasped my ass, pulling me into his face.

I moaned his name, feeling his smile against me as his tongue plunged into me.

Closing my eyes, I arched my back, letting my head fall against the tile and his tongue sweep me away.

Every nerve in my body was awake, pleasure coursing through me and leaving me weakened.

I pushed at his head the closer I grew, the impending release cresting inside of me, blocking out the sound of the shower, the sensation of the water pelting my skin, the sting of my ankle.

Nothing existed but the pleasure Tyson was bringing me and as my body came undone, falling apart like the shattering of glass, I screamed his name.

It was a feral cry that came from an untapped part of me.

My body trembled, my leg giving out, and I fell into his arms as he rose, catching me and shifting my legs around him, penetrating me with a powerful thrust that reawakened me.

I clasped to his shoulders and his lips crashed into mine, his tongue searching mine out as if not reaching it would tear him apart .

All thought, all reality, everything faded and only Tyson was there, our bodies becoming one as he took me so hard another climax tore from me, his mouth stealing my cry.

I didn’t know how to do anything but ride the tide of ecstasy that was burning through me and as another orgasm built, ascending with his before ripping through me like an untethered storm I didn’t know how I could ever belong to another man because Tyson owned me like no other had.

The thought was enough to destroy me but the feel of him filling me, his body shaking so intensely with his release that he had my body pinned between him and the wall left me barely able to breathe while the remains of my climax shivered through me.

He pinned my hand over my head again, weaving his fingers into mine and when he drew back, his hazel eyes were shadowed.

I knew then that he was struggling, just as I was.

That we’d fallen past a point where we could continue as we had, but neither of us knew how to get back to where we’d been and moving forward was terrifying for two people like us.

Tyson had carried me into the room and placed me in the bed, our bodies gravitating toward each other again until we were both so worked up that we’d had sex again.

It was hard and dirty because that’s what we both knew.

Making love was what it would have been if we were two people who didn’t shield our emotions and hide from that term.

But as we lay there, my head on his chest, his fingers gliding through my hair, I thought maybe that’s where we were heading… if we weren’t already there.

I peeked up at him, seeing how content and relaxed he was, my heart leaping at the sight, then pounding hard as he looked back at me.

“You ready to go again, little viper?” he asked .

With a laugh, I looked down, tracing a random tattoo on his chest and staring at the shape within it.

“No, I haven’t been this worn out in years.

I think you may have broken me.” The moment the words left my mouth, I realized what I’d said, the power of the underlining meaning of them.

His chest went still, his fingers stopping their gentle caress of my hair.

“Is that all it takes to break you?” he asked, but I heard the emotion beneath the tone.

“Almost,” I answered, looking closer at the tattoo. He grabbed my hand as recognition settled in.

“Don’t,” he said, his tone harsh.

“Tyson—”

“Angie, don’t go there.” It was a plea I couldn’t ignore as I stared at the small black viper that was laced around the dagger. “It means nothing.”

I glanced up at him, seeing the fear that lay behind his hard eyes.

And I knew it meant everything, just like my tattoo did.

Small subconscious ties to each other, a piece of him to carry with me, a piece of me to carry with him.

We couldn’t find a way to peel back the layers of hatred we’d built to cover our true feelings, but they found their way through.

I dropped my eyes and jerked my wrist free.

“Don’t be an asshole, Tyson.”

“I am an asshole, Anj. Now get the hell off me and go to sleep.”

I picked my head up and glared at him. “Not this time, asshole.”

Fury burned behind his eyes, only increasing when I straddled him. “What are you doing, Angie?”

Hands leaning on his chest, I looked into his eyes. They shimmered with a blend of annoyance and humor, but I couldn’t tell which one was stronger.

“Are you trying to take control of me?” he asked, his smirk forming and threatening to send my insides into turmoil .

“Maybe,” I purred.

He brought his finger up and followed the path of my freckles, emotion in his eyes that he shadowed when he caught me watching him.

“Why do you hide them?” he asked.

He was avoiding talking about the tattoo, which irked me, but with a sigh, I gave up pushing him, knowing it would only piss him off again. And as much as I enjoyed him like that, I was enjoying this moment more.

He continued to caress my cheek, so I leaned into it, saying, “They remind me of my mother.”

His eyes flashed to mine, creasing as he tried to understand. It was something I’d never shared, keeping it to myself where I kept all my emotions aside from disgust or annoyance.

“My mother was beautiful. She could walk into a room and command everyone’s attention with just her presence.

I was young when she passed, but I remember how I’d watch her, so graceful and confident.

She was classy, never flaunting her body, but knowing how to dress her curves.

Her beauty was natural and enchanting—sun-kissed skin, hair that I loved tangling my small fingers in, and the largest brown eyes that when they fell on you lit you from the inside out. ”

I stopped, pushing back the surge of sadness that wanted to sneak past my borders.

Tyson waited, his eyes intently watching me while his fingers played in my hair.

Taking a breath, I continued. “She would tuck me in each night, and kiss each one of my freckles, ending with my birthmark and telling me how it was special. A sign that the gods watched over me, she would say. And no matter how the other kids made fun of me for it, her words emboldened me.” The memory of the teasing was one I’d squashed along with the memory of her words, and remembering them hurt.

“My father called us twins we looked so much alike, and I loved that, because my mother was the standard of beauty for me…until she died.” I dropped my eyes, noticing how my th umb had been subconsciously tracing his viper tattoo.

“I was only ten when she died, but every time I looked in the mirror, I saw my mother. As I aged, I could see it in my father’s eyes, the sadness there when he looked at me.

I covered the birthmark first when the teasing overshadowed the memory of her words. ”