Page 44 of Make Me

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“I asked Stella to use her phone.” I can’t quite determine if she’s telling me this because she feels guilty or because she wants me to know that if I don’t answer her questions, she’ll find out the answers on her own.

“Find anything interesting?” I lean back and cross my ankle over my knee, sipping slowly from my wine glass.

“Turns out you were, in fact, at that game all night.” She sounds peeved.

“Are you upset that I'm not the killer or upset that you were wrong?” I tease, and I know I’m spot on with my questioning because she purses her lips like she’s holding back a retort.

“If it makes you feel better, I am a killer,” I say, and she drops the fork she just picked up. “But you already knew that.” I love that I can see her thoughts so vividly on her face. She shows everything, even when she’s trying not to. Like right now, she knows she should storm out, fear for her life, but instead she finds herself wanting to know more. I can see the devious curiosity lighting up her eyes.

“What exactly do you do?” The trepidation in her voice makes my blood pump.

“I’m a businessman.” She rolls her eyes. “You fucking roll your eyes at me again, I’ll take you across my knee and turn your sweet ass bright red. And you know I’ll enjoy every second of it, so go ahead. Call my bluff, baby.”

She stares at me wordlessly for a few seconds, then picks up her wine glass and empties it. I sit back and watch the sweet flush creep across her chest and up her neck. “Is there more of this?” She swings the empty glass.

“There’s more of anything you’d like,a chuisle.”

“Okay, Romeo. I’d like a vodka soda with lime.”

“As you wish.” I get up and head to the bar at the edge of the floor.

“Make it a double. And lots of lime,” she hollers, and I smile into the dark. I don’t take orders from anyone, but if she asked me to crawl and lick her feet, I’d fucking do it.

She becomes increasingly animated over the course of dinner and several drinks. I love the buzz in her presence as she gets more comfortable around me, lowering her guard even after everything that I did to her in the Vault.

She sits back, assessing me. “Why are you doing all this for me?”

“Every kingdom needs a queen.” It makes my dick jump at the way she lifts her chin and holds herself a little straighter when I call her my queen.

But she still feels the need to push back, fighting the inevitable a little longer. “I’m not your goddamn quee—”

“You’remine, Harlow. My woman, my property, my queen, my fucking whore, if I so choose.” I glance down to my phone and remotely turn on music through the club’s speakers. It’s a slow, soulful song. “Now that that’s settled, dance with me.”1

“You’re fucking insane,” she mutters while rolling her eyes.

I smirk. “Better get used to it, baby.”

When she takes my hand, I pull in tight, clutching one hand and wrapping the other around her waist. We don’t speak and just sway to the music, our chests pressing together each time we inhale. Her vanilla-and-gardenia scent envelops me, making me want to drink her in, capture her scent in a bottle, and carry it with me always.

The song changes to something a bit more sensual, and my cock thickens when her hips grind to the beat. Those goddamn butterflies have returned, battering my stomach like a storm. I thread my fingers into the base of her hair and tip her head back. Her eyes are hooded and glossy with…fuck, that’s desire.I want to savor this moment, drag it out as long as possible until I have her wound so tight she feels even a modicum as out of control as I do.

I brush the tip of my nose along hers, sharing a breath. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her so fucking bad, but instead I dip down her neck, just barely dusting her thin flesh. She shudders at the tease and wraps her hand around the back of my head, pulling me down on her. A breathy moan spills from her lips as her hold forces me to press my lips harder against her neck. She clutches me to her as I pay tribute to every inch of her neck and chest, my hand in her hair, maneuvering her how I please and exposing the next patch of skin for me to lavish.

She arches into me and straddles one of my legs as she continues to dance sensually to the music. She must feel my bulging cock against her hips as she grinds herself against it. Or maybe she is just chasing her own pleasure, making a mess of her panties while she gyrates on my leg. Either possibility lights a fire in the pit of my stomach, singeing the butterflies and demanding more.

“Will you make yourself come for me,a chuisle?” I rasp into her ear, then bite down on the lobe.

“Are you certain we are the only ones here?” There’s a giddiness to her tone, the elicit thought making her squirm.

“Yes. Nobody is here. Because if anyone tried to dance with you, I would slit their throat and then fuck you in a pool of their blood.” She gasps but doesn’t pull away. No, she rocksharderinto me. “Your pleasure belongs to me and me alone. So give it to me,a chuisle. Ride my leg and let me keep you together as you fall apart.”

She gives in to the temptation and rolls her hips in circles up and down my thigh. She buries her face into my neck, and I can tell every time there’s the perfect amount of friction against her clit because she has these sharp, little gasps that are followed by a deep exhale that clings to my skin.

My hands roam her soft, winding body, committing every dip and curve to memory. The silky material of her dress dampens with a light sheen of sweat, and when I kiss her temple, there’s a saltiness that makes me desperate to taste more of her.

My hand sweeps up the back of her thigh and under the curve of her ass to stroke the thin, lacy material of her thong between her cheeks. “Are your panties soaked, dirty girl?” I drag my fingers firmly up and down her crack, pressing harder when I pass over her back entrance, sliding almost to her pussy but never quite there. She clenches her cheeks at the invasion, but the delicious moans she’s making reveal her true feelings.

“Have you been touched here before?” I ask while rubbing heavy circles over the thong covering her tight ring. She shakes her head. “Good, I like knowing that I will be the only man to ever have you that way.” I more thanlikeit. It makes my chest rumble with the primal need to claim all parts of her body as mine.


Tags: Summer O'Toole Romance