“You’re so blasé about sex, so matter-of-fact, but it’s an act. You hide behind blowjobs and hot, frantic fucking.” “There’s nothing wrong with those things.” His lips quirk. “Agreed.” He lowers his mouth to mine and his lips are so close. I want him to kiss me. I need him to kiss me. I need him to need me. To use me. His fingers skim up my arms, sending delicious chills through me before they skim down my body and settle on my hips. “Let me touch you,” he whispers. “Let me break down these walls you keep hiding behind.” He’s so close, leaning over me, his mouth above mine, but I’m pretty sure I’m shaking. How does he see me when no one else has? How does he know? When he kisses me, his lips aren’t gentle. His mouth is hard and hot and demanding over mine. His tongue invades and his teeth scrape my lips. This isn’t a kiss, this is a claiming. And it terrifies and exhilarates me. His hands squeeze roughly at my ass as he settles me on the edge of the table, his mouth still on mine.
