this time I’m torn, please wake me if I lose that face
search in these eyes: there’s still fire in the darkness
Her heart stuttered when he crooned at her, his voice like silk and far too familiar even after all this time. He sent shivers down her spine, made her skin prickle and the frost over her chill even further. He so easily dismissed Reilly's name, and did she have any other defenses at all against him? Had she ever?
"Don't give a shit. And I don't care if your pretty not-quite-purple friend appreciates it either."
He nipped her again after growling it out, sweeping it away with a soft brush of his lips. Her chin tilted up as he pushed closer, pinning her firmly between himself and the tree at her back and bending to take her throat. She was so stupid, though, so bold at all the wrong times.
"Woolf, you mean?" she started innocently, then lowered into a soft husky murmur. "I think he's the sexiest purple. Wouldn't you agree? Oh!--" she cried out as his tongue laved across her skin. Then became firmly attached to her icy cold and she blushed, tilted her face aside as he moaned, somehow solved the issue on his own and finished his taste of her.
"You're mine," he told her, her eyes on the ground to her left and thick lashes hiding her pain. Because it felt so true. After everything, it still felt so true when it shouldn't. "Even your skin knows it, no matter who you come back smelling like." She gasped as he clipped her neck with a sharp scolding, his voice edged in what sounded like irritation.
"Mine," he growled again, pressing against her harder and pushing out a groaned whimper. "Not Reilly's, not his. They'll never make you scream the way I can, Lace. They'll never quite be enough, not even if you want them to." It still sounded true, all of it. Everything. He was always so right and tears welled silently in her eyes, her face still turned away and eyes down. "Too tame, too sweet, just a little too good to you when we both know how much you love it when it hurts just right."
She bit over her bottom lip softly and a tear fell. A dull voice in her mind had a rebuttal, that if he thought either of those men were tame he hadn't seen enough of them. Reilly with his red-hot Irish temper, and Woolf so completely unpredictable and his own style of danger. But she didn't say any of it aloud. She was overcome in finding the shell she'd been hiding in, hollowing herself back out so she didn't have to feel.
"You gonna settle for someone safe who walks you home and steals a tame little kiss before disappearing, or you gonna take what's yours?"
He growled the last of it and pushed pointedly against her, drawing her widened eyes immediately to him with another gasp from her lips. Take what's hers?? She searched his molten silver eyes, confused and definitely a little terrified. He hadn't played it like this before. It sounded too real, too genuine. He was getting better at this and it hurt like hell.
"Why do you do this, Kirby?" she whispered, dropping her eyes again and looking to the side. "Why now after so long are you playing this again?" She shook her head and swallowed. "You already made it clear you weren't interested, not in anything more than sex. And you know I don't sleep around. It always means more than sex to me. It's not something you can give." Not to someone like her.
