Starfire(83)

“Yes,” he replied, his voice low and growly.

“I don’t get it.”

“You will.” He grabbed me and pulled me onto the bed with him.

Howling with laughter, I said, “Honestly, I don’t get it.”

He wrestled with me and pushed me onto my back. He grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and paused to look me in the eyes for one second, flashing a warning with his emerald green eyes, then he ripped the fabric, exposing my front.

“No, you didn’t!” I gasped.

He was smirking, still playing, but I didn’t find his ripping of my nice shirt nearly as amusing. He straddled me, resting his butt comfortably on the area about my hipbones.

I stuck my thumb and finger into the holes of his designer shirt, and gave him a little dose of his own medicine.

“Hotter,” he said.

I clawed at the neckline of his shirt and tried to rip there, but the fabric was too tough.

“Colder,” he said.

We were playing the hotter-colder game again? I had a pretty good idea now where the rose petals led.

I reached down and unfastened the button of his jeans. A damp clump of red rose petals fell out, revealing his bare skin and the smattering of hair that led down from his navel.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” I said. That meant the boxers on the floor were his, and the rest of the rose petals were… falling out as I unzipped his jeans and loosened everything.

He was already quite hard from the squirming, and the touch of my fingertips quickly brought him to full attention.

“I bought you a dozen roses,” he whispered.

“And then, apparently, you fucked them.”

He grinned, that devious vampire smirk making its first appearance of the day. The panic in my panties turned into a full-scale fire drill.

“That’s right,” he said. “I fucked all your pretty roses, and now I’m going to do the same to you.”

I thumbed over the tip of his cock, the gleaming bead of liquid slick under my touch.

“You’ll have to settle for a hand job,” I said. “My parents are down the hall.”

“I’ve been up all night, working overtime on set. That’s why I still have a bit of eyeliner on. I took something to keep me awake, and now I can’t settle down until I get what I want.”

I wrapped my hand around his shaft and stroked up and down. “You can’t always get what you want.”

He grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand away, then climbed off me to remove his jeans and what remained of his tattered shirt.

“Get your clothes off,” he commanded.

“No.” The panic in my panties had turned into a party, and I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him with every nerve ending and every inch of skin, especially the inches that wrapped inside me, but… the word no kept coming out of my mouth. I liked how that word made him scowl.

He said, “What will it take to make you say yes?”

“A little conversation might be nice. You could ask how my flight was.”

He finished kicking off his own clothes and arranged himself on the bed, lying on his side next to me.

With one gorgeous, dark eyebrow raised, he growled, “How was your flight, my darling?”

“Not bad. A girl could get used to flying.” I pulled off my torn shirt and cast it aside.

He nodded, catching on to the rules of the game.

“Did the staff here tell you about the wine that comes out of the taps?”

“Yes, they did.” I unbuttoned my lightweight travel chinos and slipped them off, so I was down to my bra and panties. “I’m on birth control now, by the way. Speaking of things spurting out of taps.”

He put his hand on my leg, but I swatted him away.

“But are you still fucking that other guy? Austin?”

“Adrian? For the record, I’ve never actually fucked him, but I might.”

He glowered at me, but didn’t say anything until I unfastened my bra and slipped it off.

“Nice watch,” he said.

“My fiancé bought it for me.”

“On second thought, that watch won’t go with your ring.”

I blinked, trying not to let on I’d completely forgotten about the ring, during my hectic week of moving the store.

“I’m a stylish girl. I can pull off anything,” I said.

“Pull off those panties.” He sniffed the air. “I want to bury my face in there.”

Sighing, I said, “If only someone would ask me one more question.”

“Would you like me to fuck you two times before we have lunch with our families, or just once?”

I ran my fingertip under the waistband of my panties. “You can do better.”

“Fine.” He looked up at the ceiling, as though searching for clues.