“I don’t do druggies. Run along.”
Her brows draw together as if she’s offended. “I’m not a druggie.”
“Says every druggie.”
She tilts her chin up in defiance. “You can’t tell me what I’m not.”
Huh. Interesting.
She has the attitude that comes with the princess title.
My hand wraps around her waist under the T-shirt so it’s my skin to her heated one. Even with one hand, she fits so fucking perfectly. My fingers creep up near her ribs and I stroke the skin until a shudder goes through her.
“This feels good, princess?”
“Oh God, yes.” Her eyes flutter closed as she steps so close, I smell lilac on her. “More.”
That’s what every druggie says.
I know that, should’ve said that.
But I’m caught in how her lips part, accentuating the pink teardrop in the middle. She’s so aroused, I don’t only feel it in the tremors and her heated body, but I can smell it in the air.
I’m tempted to yank her top, bend her over and fuck her until she forgets her name and screams mine.
But I meant it. I don’t do druggies.
Clifford’s princess stares up at me and bites down on the corner of her lip. My pelvis crashes against her lower stomach as she moves up and down against my jeans.
My dick hardens as she moans, “Please, more.”
Fuck me.
Maybe I can make an exception this time. I’m corrupted enough as it is.
Before I give in to my demons, I snap, “Out.”
When she stares at me with that slight blush, eyes shining with innocence and pain, a sick thought remains in my mind.
I want to ruin her.
> Complicate her.
Crush her innocence.
Then watch it all burn.
But again, that’s what I feel about most beautiful things.
If my soul is black, why does the world need colours?
I grab her arm and drag her towards the back door. Her lips part as she struggles to keep up with my strides. When I open the back door and throw her outside, her lips part.
She wobbles towards me. “No, wait —”
I shut the door in her face, muting all the foggy chaos that erupted because of her presence.
Tonight isn’t the time, but it will come.