He circles his eyes over my face, watches the shaking of my lips and notices my nervous swallow.
When he brings his eyes back up to me, he licks his lips. “It’s tight, isn’t it? Your virgin pussy.”
“I-I think so.”
His chest shudders with a tight, humorless chuckle. “Yeah, I bet it is. Girls like you always have a tight fucking pussy. A pussy that men fight over. Kill each other over.”
Goosebumps break over my skin and I rock my hips again. “Girls like me?”
I ask the same question that I’ve asked several times before and he answers me on a raspy, choppy breath. “Yeah, girls like you. Bad girls. Bratty and spoiled. Girls who pout their lips when they don’t get their way. You know there’s a name for it.”
“Name for what?”
“For the kind of pussy you have.”
“What?”
He pulls at my nipple, making it all sore and achy. “Pouty pussy.”
I feel it down there. That pull. That vicious pull of his fingers. The vicious whisper of his words.
I feel it in my pussy.
“What?” I whisper.
“Yeah. That’s what they call it. Pouty and juicy. Bad girl pussy. And yours is going to be the juiciest. She pouts the hardest, doesn’t she? She’s the tightest too. Because you’re worse. You’re worse than bad, aren’t you?”
Yes, I am.
I don’t even care if I’m bad or desperate or whatever. I just want him closer. I want him to fix this ache in my belly, this current in my thighs.
This spasm in my bad girl pussy.
“Arrow, please…”
“But that’s your downfall, Salem,” he whispers, leaning his face closer and bumping our noses together. “Your bratty, pouty pussy. Because the more she pouts, the more she whines, the tinier she becomes. Tinier and smaller and you can’t give her the very thing she wants.”
“W-what does she want?” I ask, as if I don’t know.
As if I’m so innocent that I don’t know what he’s talking about. But the thing is that I’m so far gone that I’ve got no brain power left.
I want him to tell things to me. I want him to do things to me too.
All the things. Bad and dirty and wonderful and glorious.
And he knows it – how can he not? I’m practically attacking him with my nails on his wrist and fisting his t-shirt with my other hand while I shift and rock against his stomach.
Arrow knows my predicament and he smirks. “A big fat cock. That’s what you want, don’t you? You want me to fuck you with it.”
Oh God.
Yes.
I nod eagerly. “Yes.”
He shifts his pelvis again and I don’t know how he knows where my spot is but he hits it, and I twist between him and the wall, my eyes clenching shut.
“But you can’t have it. You can’t have the very thing that you want. Because your pussy is so tight and small that she can’t handle it.”
“Oh God, please,” I sob, almost breaking his skin with my nails.
Almost making him bleed because I want him so much.
He squeezes my breast, pinching my nipple between his knuckles, making everything ache and ache. “Nah, you ruined your own chance. You should’ve thought of that before you pouted at me, Salem. Before you taunted me. You won’t be able to handle my dick now. Because they don’t make them any bigger than mine.”
God, if he doesn’t do something soon, I’ll explode.
“You’re such a –”
His laugh is both amused and pained as he cuts me off and does do something.
He leans over and kisses the corner of my mouth and I freeze.
My eyes go wide when he flicks his tongue out and licks that corner too before whispering, “Tell you what. You waited for me, didn’t you? You worried over me. Not to mention, you’re my friend. So maybe I can give you a little something.”
“Something like what?”
He kisses the corner of my mouth again, a small, soft, soothing kiss.
“Your first kiss,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning over my mouth. “I told you I wouldn’t but maybe I can break my own rule.”
"You can?”
“Uh-huh. For you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah. Just to be nice.”
Oh God.
Thank God.
And I open my mouth to say that to him, to thank him but he doesn’t give me a chance because he’s doing what he said he would.
After torturing me for ages, he’s being nice to me.
With his mouth.
He closes his lips over mine and he gives me my first kiss – the kiss that I’ve waited for for eight years – and heat explodes in every part of my body.
Heat and lust and all the love that I have for him.
Which is good because I’ve been in the cold too long. I’ve been living in the harsh winter and finally, I’ve been touched by the sun.
More than touched, actually.
I’ve been consumed by him.
My sun has swallowed me and drunk me down before I can even draw a breath. Before I can comprehend anything, learn the texture of him and study the softness of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth in detail, he has put both his hands on my face and splayed them wide.