"I think the last two days have shown that's true!"
"Bullshit! It shows you need to quit telling people crap like that and tell them I'm your man."
"My man?"
"I didn't stutter, Buttercup."
"You are unbelievable," she says, walking away from me. Which, by the way, leaves me chasing after her, yet again. Like a chump.
I grab her before she leaves the room, spinning her around to face me. A man can only take so much, and she's pushed me way past my limit.
"I'm done with letting you twist me in knots," I growl.
"You're insane."
"You've driven me to it," I mutter, wrapping my hand around the side of her neck and pulling her lips to mine.
CHAPTER 27
WHITE
Kayla's arms push against me. Her hands curl around my biceps, her fingers biting into my skin. She tries to pull her mouth away, and maybe I'm an asshole, but I don't let her. It's time she learns who is in control here. It's time she learns—me.
I increase the strength of the hold I have on her neck, basically forcing her to open for me. When she does, I don't think; I push inside her mouth, intent on owning it—on conquering her.
Her mouth is both cool and warm at once—a heat that is undeniably Kayla, and a taste that is from the cool sherbet she had earlier. My hand moves down to her breast, palming it, letting it fill and spill over as my fingers knead it. I'm being rough, zero finesse, and I don't give a damn because finally she stops trying to pull away and kisses me back.
Kayla isn't worrying about gentle either as her tongue fights mine for control. Domination. She'll need to learn that when it comes to this, I'm the one in control. I sweep my tongue through her mouth one last time before pulling away for air.
"You're an asshole," Kayla mumbles against my mouth, biting hard into my lips. The faint taste of copper enters my mouth and I know she's drawn blood—again. My dick was already close to exploding and that just made it worse. I gather the shirt she's wearing in my hand, forcing it to let go of her breast. Then I use my other hand at the collar and rip it down the middle. "I liked that shirt," she complains, but she's busy biting down the side of my neck. She's like a kitten with sharp claws, enjoying inflicting pain and leaving her mark. I wonder if she knows how much I fucking love that it's me she's marking?
"Too damn bad," I mutter, letting the shirt drop to the floor. I don't bother with her bra, just pushing it up and letting her breasts fall out of the bottom. I squeeze one hard as my head goes down. I run my tongue over the nipple which is crying for attention. It’s pebbled so hard, the tip looks painful. When I hear Kayla's moan, something fires through my system. A feeling of victory and purpose merges together. I was put on this Earth to bring this woman to her knees and yet make sure she flies high as possible. How did I not fucking see that before? I suck her breast in my mouth, tormenting the nipple mercilessly and making sure that when I'm done, my mark will be there. Fuck, I'm going to brand her. There won't be a part of her body I haven't made mine. When she looks in the mirror, I want her to see nothing but my ownership.
Her fingers tangle into my hair, pulling me to her. She brokenly whispers, "Please, White," and it’s like music to my ears. It seems like I've been chasing her forever. Crazy, but still it feels true. Today, that ends.
"You wear too many fucking clothes, Buttercup."
"I agree," she mutters, pushing my shirt up my stomach. I break away to help her drag it over my head. Once it’s off, I let it fall to the floor. My hands go to her hips, intent on nothing more than pushing her pants to the floor and having her naked. Kayla has other plans, though, as she dives to my chest, her nails digging into my flesh, her teeth holding my nipple prisoner as her tongue flicks it teasingly. She’s wild. She's not a kitten; she's a fucking wild tiger. Up until this moment, I thought she was shy. Now, I'm pretty sure she's just been scared. Get her out of her mind so she’s not worrying if she's doing things right, and she's every man's dream. My dream.
As good as this feels, I can't let it go on. I forcibly pull her hands away and pin them against the wall above her head. Kayla immediately pushes against my hold, twisting her entire body to try and break free.
"Behave," I bark.
"Let me go," she whines.
"Don't move your damn hands until I get you out of these clothes."
"Fine," she huffs. I immediately go to her hips, my fingers grabbing the waistband of her sweats.
"Holy Hell, Buttercup, you could fit three of you in these damn things."
She doesn't respond unless you count the grunt she lets out. She also doesn't mind me, because her hands have found their way to my jeans. The sound of my zipper echoes in my ears as I push her sweats down. They're so loose that they fall to the floor without stopping. I feel like a kid in a candy store when I realize she's not wearing underwear. I definitely hear a mental, "Yes," echoing in my head. That could be because around the same time, her hand wraps around my dick. She squeezes it so hard, my toes fucking curl against the hard leather of my shoes, which reminds me that I need to take them off. I'm not fucking my woman in my socks and shoes like some kid getting his rocks off for the first time. I kick them off quickly and somehow even manage to push my pants down and step out of everything. I stumble a few times and come close to falling, but manage to pull it together. All I need is to end up on the floor, tangled in my own clothes. I'm sure that would just impress Kayla immensely.