chapter three
Ajax
“Last Chance, Olivia,” I warn her. “Are you sure you don't want me to release you? Because this is the last time I'll ask you. If you change your mind after this, all bets are off.” I mean it too. I’m barely holding myself in check by a thread as it is. Once she admits that she wants me, there’s no way in hell I’ll be physically capable of releasing her.
She’ll be mine.
A thrill goes through me at the thought. Olivia as mine is like a rush of adrenaline straight to my system. Mine—and everything that goes with that.
Her cheeks flush, and her lips thin. Her eyes flash with anger.
I can't help the smirk that twists my lips. “You want to do it, don’t you? You want to tell me that you don't want me, so I’ll release you. You know it’s what you should do, but you can’t. You can't do it because you know it'd be a lie.”
If possible, Olivia’s cheeks turn an even brighter red, and my grin widens. Consequently, my cock springs to attention at the confirmation of what I've suspected all along. Try as she might to deny it, try as she might to be daddy's good girl, Olivia wants me too—a low-down felon who in no universe would ever be good enough for her.
The selfish kind of villain who doesn’t care and who will take her anyway, though.
Her sweet breath is fanning over my lips, and her sweet honey scent envelopes me. Everything about her is so motherfucking sweet.
“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that, honey?” I ask her.
Those blue eyes peer up at me in confusion. “What do you mean?” Her voice comes out in a breathy whisper that has fire roaring through my veins. It calls to mind limbs tangling together in satin, bodies moving together.
“What were you thinking of tonight before you went to bed?” I ask her.
Her breathing hitches and she looks away from me.
I’m having none of that, though. I turn her face back to me. Her skin is petal-soft underneath my fingertips. She’s like a flower, so delicate and breakable, and that might should scare me because I’m so big and rough, but it just causes a surge of protectiveness to rise in me.
When she doesn’t answer, I lay all my cards on the table. I skate my lips right over her ears as I whisper huskily, “Were you imagining my lips on you when you played with that pretty pink pussy tonight?”
She gasps and jerks back from me. She sputters for a moment before she finally decides there’s no use in denying it and instead accuses me, “You were watching me?”
And that’s one thing I love about Olivia. She doesn’t lie. She’s genuine. So far, she hasn’t made any half-hearted denials of anything.
Because I can’t keep my hands off her anymore, I place them against the small of her back, noticing how one hand spans her entire back. That’s how tiny she is in comparison to me. “You bet your sweet ass I watched you play with that pretty little kitty.”
She blushes and tries to look down again, but I grab her chin and force her to meet my eyes when I ask her, “And you know what that means, don’t you?”
She bites her lip and tries to look away, but I hold her fast.
My voice is rough as gravel when I say, “I heard you cry out my name when you flooded those little white cotton panties.”
“Oh god,” she moans in embarrassment, but I shake my head at her as I trail one of my hands around her waist and down to the band of her little pink sleep shorts.
“I bet your little panties are still soaked, aren’t they?”
I pause with my fingers barely under the band of her shorts. As much as I’m dying to slip them under her panties, I don’t—yet.
Instead, I hold her eyes as I slide my hand down over the cotton until I’m cupping her sweet mound through her panties.
My nostrils flare, and my breathing becomes uneven.
“Soaking fucking wet, sweet baby.”
She whimpers, and that sound registers straight in my cock, and I can’t hold back any longer.
I crash my lips down onto hers, finally tasting her sweetness. And holy shit, she tastes even sweeter than I imagined she would. She’s like pure sugar, and the rush goes straight to my head.