Mariana's Pov
He’s not pathetic.
No, he’s not. He’s hot, so f*****g hot.
With his eyes feasting on my body, on my calves, a growl rumbling low in his throat, and his hands kneading my ass, I tremble.
“Pathetic?” He asks, a smirk dancing around his perfect lips.
“Yes, you are,” I hush, my eyes clouding over with lust.
A chuckle, low in his throat, rumbles.
His hand molds itself to my breast, his eyes darkening. “Oh,” he breathes a hush, “your skin is soft. I almost forgot how soft you feel.”
“Don’t,” I warn.
“Why not?” He asks, “does it make you hate yourself how you were crawling on your knees for this pathetic gentleman? How you let him bend you over, spit on you, degrade you while f*****g you right in front of his girlfriend whom you murdered out of jealousy?” His chest rumbles
