Page 179 of Tell Me Pucking Lies

I’m not sure if I want to touch her or strangle the thought out of my head.

“You gonna keep standing there ignoring me?” I ask, ashing the cigarette into an empty beer bottle.

She crosses the room, slow and deliberate, each step measured. There’s intention in her movement. She stops a few feet away, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet her eyes.

Her glare could slice through bone—sharp and focused and absolutely lethal. I kind of like it. Most people look away when I hold their gaze too long, unsettled by whatever they see there. She doesn’t flinch.

I reach out, hand finding her waist, and pull her against me. She stiffens—every muscle going rigid—but she doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t slap me or curse or run. Just stands there in the cage of my arms, breathing hard, eyes defiant.

I need to fuck.

Something. Anything.Her.

The kiss hits like a match strike—sudden and consuming. Raw, impatient, fueled by something darker than desire. Her hands come up to my neck, nails digging in hard enough to break skin. I taste copper and smoke and rage, and I don’t care about the pain or the blood or whatever’s running through her head.

I just pull her closer, one hand squeezing her ass, the other tangling in her damp hair. She kisses like she fights—no mercy, no retreat. All teeth and tongue.

When she pulls away, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and there’s blood on her lips. Mine or hers, I can’t tell.

“Are you going to sit there all night just staring?” she asks, but her voice is rougher than it was before.

I release her, lean back and try to look more composed than I feel.

Her eyes race up and down my face and then she pulls off her top. When she unclips her bra, her gorgeous tits fall out and my dick goes stiff.

“Or are you going to fuck me?” she whispers.

I tilt my head back and watch.

She pulls off her trousers and says, “I picked you tonight.”

Out of her options? I’d say I’m the best fucking one. But she doesn’t need to say more to get me going. I already planned out the positions I’d fuck her in.

I lift my hips to pull my dick out. I grab the condom burning a hole in my back pocket and tear the package open.

She kneels down and licks my shaft before I can roll the condom on. Her bare mouth needs more spit. It’s dry as fuck.

“I want you––” she mutters, sucking me. “I want you to do whatever you want with me.” Her tongue rolls on the tip of my dick.

Then she bites.

Fuck!

In a quiet sexy voice, she says, “I want you to give me your worst.”

I stare at her dilated eyes.

She licks me again, sucking. “I want you to make it hurt.”

I grab her neck, remembering that she’s drugged up. I press her against the wall and whisper, “Do you know what you’re asking?”

She nods rapidly under my hold. Her pulse picking up under my thumb. “I chose you, Atticus. I need this.”

I rip her panties off with one loud shriek of cotton and say, “Why?”

She pushes her ass out, desperate like a dirty whore. “Because…”

I slap her ass hard.