Her revengeful Bastard

Like silk and flowers in the rain

*Kai*

Kissing her is most definitely the best decision I have ever made in my life. Kissing her is also most definitely the worst decision I have ever made in my life.

I have been intimate with women and more than a few to be honest, but none have ever kissed me like this, as though their very existence relies on our mouths staying latched together, our tongues swirling, one part velvet, one part silk, softness and allure.

Her moans and sighs urge me to take the kiss deeper, even as the soft sound tightens my bollocks and hardens my shaft, making it difficult to think rationally. Christ, I am in danger of spilling my seed in my pants like a hormonal teenage boy, without even feeling the dampness between her thighs that I am certain is waiting for me, hot and glistening with need and desire.

From the moment I looked up from the contracts I was studying and saw her standing there, I have wanted my mouth on hers, my hands on her back … her buttocks … her breasts. I have yet to move beyond the small of her back, to go further. I don’t want to frighten her with my needs and my deep longing to possess her.

Especially as my own overwhelming yearnings scares the hell out of me right now.

She is no longer the means to an end, but has become the end itself … my main goal … my price. I was supposed to be cool and dispassionate in taking her. My purpose was to draw her in while keeping myself at a distance …to use her in my revenge. Instead, she has managed to entice me into a maelstrom of emotions and sensations, needs and desires, that are quite foreign to me.

I am a man accustomed to controlling my world, my fate, my destiny … everything within my sphere … yet where she is concerned, I have lost my bearings. I feel as though she possesses a sledgehammer and is knocking away my wall of indifference, brick by brick. How will I protect myself when they are all gone? I don’t know if I could find the resilience to stack the bricks back up or if I have the speed to do it before she has removed it all.

She smells so bloody good, like flowers after a rain. Her fragrance is probably taken from a single blossom, but I know little of plant names. Flowers are pretty to look at, but I have no time for learning the details about them. Yet at this moment I have an insane need to smell every bloom I come across until I find the one that matches her scent. Or maybe it is just her natural scent speaking to me.

Sliding my hands beneath her coat, I cradle her sides, her back. So narrow, so delicate, so fragile. I suddenly realize I will truly hate the man who takes her innocence from her … even if it is me.

Drawing back, I am surprised to discover my breathing is labored and harsh. Hers might be the same, but I hardly notice. Instead, I am arrested by the sight of her swollen, damp lips and the intense heat in her eyes. I see the cooling, the arrival of confusion, quickly followed by horror and fear for her own actions … as well as mine.

Staggering back, she slams her shoulder against the edge of the window casing, grimaces and before I can ask if she is okay, she shuffles away, her hand coming up to cover the mouth I am desperate to once again plunder.

Then she spins on her heel and runs at a speed that makes me fear I will find her ripped clothes in the hallway after she has wolfed out.