I blinked at the wall. “I’ll get your pants dirty.”
“I can afford another pair of pants,” he growled, before his hand arched downwards, pressing against my pubic bone in a way that did strange things to my insides.
Doing as he asked, I swayed my hips from side to side, trying to grind on him like he wanted, and while it didn’t rub my clit at all, it made me incredibly aware of just how wet I was. Of how pleasure could exist without a peak.
Groaning when he reached up to palm one of my breasts, I listened as he whispered in my ear, his breath brushing my earlobe as he communicated with me in what I was coming to learn was one of his most favorite ways, “You’re not going to come like this. You’re just going to be hyper aware of that pussy. It isn’t greedy right now. If anything, it’s been starved and doesn’t recognize what it needs. But soon, when it gets a sniff of my hands or my dick or my mouth, it’s going to get hungry. You’re going to be desperate for my dick, Camille. Absolutely fucking desperate for it.”
My eyelids fluttered at his words. “Why do you want that?”
“Because that way I’ll erase every other son of a bitch who’s been inside you.” He nipped on my earlobe. “That phone call will have been important. All my calls are. But I shoved it aside, for you.” He squeezed on my nipple. “I’ll have to go out soon. I want you to make an appointment with a clinic.”
Hurt washed through me, extinguishing some of the liquid pleasure I’d felt in my core. “W-Why? I already showed you my clean bill of health.”
“Because I want you on birth control. I’m not ready for you to have my kids yet.”
Was that a compliment or an insult?
Wasn’t I good enough now that he supposedly knew how many guys I’d fucked?
He bit down on my earlobe, harder than before, harder than ever. “Unfurl those fucking hands of yours.”
I hadn’t even realized I’d done that. Unaware of the gesture that was second nature to me, I blinked and found my hands were, in fact, curled into tight fists that I’d rested against the wall. Carefully doing as he asked, and trying not to moan as I did so because I didn’t want to anger an already pissed off beast, I whispered, “You said you wanted children.”
“And I do. And we will. Just not yet. I told you, Camille, you should have walked away when you had the chance.” He squeezed me in his hold in a kind of reverse hug that somehow let me feel every part of him. “Get the pill, the shot, whatever. I’ll decide when we’re ready for kids, and it won’t be when their mother is still strung up on slicing her hands open and her cunt isn’t gagging for my cock.”
He made a disgusted sound at the back of his throat, before he let go, dipped down, then hauled me into his arms, carrying me like a real husband carried his bride over the threshold.
Bewildered, I looked up at him, aghast and astounded, as he carried me down the hall, toward the farthest end where I’d started off last night.
Disappointment filled me, before he walked in and said, “Take one last look at this bedroom, Camille. If I find you in here, I’ll spank your ass until you can’t sit down for a week.” His eyes leveled on mine. “There’s no running from this. Not now.”
My mouth worked, confusion filling me. He was acting like I was a woman he’d been craving for a lifetime, like I hadn’t twisted his arm into marrying me.
He was...
Possessive.
And as I registered the fire in his eyes for what it was, I melted.
I absolutely, one-hundred-percent melted into him.
My bones turning molten, my being just disintegrating into a goo that clung to him as he hauled me out of the room and down toward his.
“You’re not going to like everything I do. You’re going to hate some of it, and sometimes, you might hate me, but that’s fine. I can deal with your hatred—I’m more than used to that,” he said grimly, prompting me to blink up at him.
What was he talking about?
Hate?
Hate a man who barely knew me, but who looked at me like he’d set the world on fire if I dared self-harm again?
Hate a man who told me he wanted my cunt to be gagging for his dick?
None of this was anticipated, but then, I thought Brennan felt the exact same way.
He didn’t look particularly happy, just resolved.
Like something had clicked on in his mind, and when a man like him made a decision, it wasn’t often he went back on it.
There was only one thought that whispered through my mind at that...
Thank God for bullheaded monsters...