I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite
He’s played the game a thousand fucking times. Knew all the damned ins and outs. Frankly, if he were interested in anything more than a nice piece of ass, he might even be worried. But he’s not. Hard to tug on strings that aren’t there. Maybe that’s why he’s always avoided tanglement.
Either that, or he’s just a fucking asshole. Probably the latter, let’s be real.
She meets him halfway though, and that pleases the fuck outta him. Play the damned game beautiful. His smile curves wickedly across his pale features as his eyes rove her body hungrily. She’s reckless bravery and delicious allure all rolled into one convenient package. Frankly, he’s not one to look a gift horse in the damn mouth.
No doubt she could give as good as she got. And ain’t that just the fucking dream.
Her question brings smirk to his features, shameless and knowing. She’s picked the wrong damn bull to take by the horns. He shifts then, pressing closer, crowding her with his larger, broader frame. Her lips on his skin is delicious, tantalizing. But he’s been seducing women for decades. She’d need a little practice to catch up. Hell, a lot of fucking practice.
His lips trace phantom touches along her skin, almost touching but not quite, close enough to feel the heat of his skin, the warmth of his breath. When he reaches her delicately curved ear, he pauses. “I think I’m not the only one who wants a release,” he breaths tauntingly, his teeth snapping sharply closed to emphasize his point, barely missing her sensitive pink ear.
The words are as much warning as they are promise. In another thirty seconds, there would be no fucking escape. Not for her.
