Chapter 4 The Ultimate Cliche
Am I being too forward? Too brazen?
Absolutely. Laving her neck with my tongue out in the open like this, when the only information I have about her is that she's a killer who goes by Nat, is almost certainly the most foolish thing I've ever done.
But I can't stop. Can't bring myself to even slow down. If anything, every second my tongue spends on her skin sends me spiraling faster into delirious need.
I was already immediately intrigued by her, seeing something inside me mirrored within her gorgeous, haunted face.
Now that I've tasted her skin and heard her sweet sighs, I know I won't be happy until I've learned every single way to make her body sing for me.
Even if I have to spend all night doing so.
All week. If I have to dedicate the rest of time to finding every way to pull pleasure from her, I'll do it happily.
Dedicate myself to learning all her desires, both those she knows of and those she's yet to discover.
I've taken countless lovers over the years.
Sometimes, several at once.
And yet, nothing has awoken this ravenous hunger inside me the way my doe-eyed killer does.
I'm not even sure I can tear myself away from her long enough to get us to my home before I drag her coat and dress up those thighs, and bury myself between them.
My mouth carries on its mission, traversing the pale flesh of her neck, pressing right where her blood pumps furiously, sucking on the skin there to leave a small mark.
It's not even close to the way I want to mark her neck, sink my teeth into it, and draw the blood into my body, connect our bodies and souls with the sustenance in her veins. But it'll do for now.
With slight hesitation, her hands land on my hips, granting me silent permission to continue. But silent permission isn't enough. I want her aching, pulling on me, and trying to drag me as close to her as she can. Nothing but loud desperation will be enough.
I lean back, staring down at Nat, her big brown eyes fluttering as she waits for what I'll do next, her eyes darting to my lips as she licks her own.
Before I can stop myself, I plant my mouth on hers.
Nat's gasp of surprise lets me immediately slide my tongue against hers, drawing a soft moan from her throat.
Her fingers dig into my hips, pulling them flush to her body, my hardening cock jumping to attention at finally being pressed against her.
Yes, the thought sounds like a hiss of relief.
Yes, this is everything.
Yes, yes, yes.
Her quiet mewling makes my head spin as she tries to drag me even closer, her mouth opening for mine and caressing my tongue with her own, over and over. My hands ache to move from the wall and grip her body, to hold her close enough that I can feel as well as hear her heart pounding.
This moment is everything.
I tug her bottom lip between my teeth before releasing, continuing to devour her gorgeous mouth. Her warm fingers glide under the back of my shirt, those sharp nails digging into my back as I bite her again, drawing filthy, needy moans from her body.
She pulls her lips from mine, aiming to take a breath.
A growl escapes me as one of my hands grips her jaw, and the other wraps around the back of her neck, forcing her lips back to mine with a harshness I hadn't planned on showing her yet, but I wasn't fucking done kissing her.
Everything about the kiss has me in fucking shambles.
The taste of her tongue, the minty rum flavor of her earlier activities.
The symphony of sound escaping her body with each languid roll of my hips against hers.
The feel of her warm skin under mine, the heat of her body as it welcomes me closer, her hot fingers druggingly biting into my back.
And Christ, the scent of her pussy as her arousal grows, begging me to fill it, stretch it open, fill it with cum, and mark it as mine.
I don't even need to open my eyes to see her. All of my senses are consumed with her as she pants and writhes, reveling in my rough grip, keeping her right where I want her.
But we can't stay here.
Fucking her less than a block from her murder scene will only bring her closer to getting caught.
And I have no intention of taking her while she wears another man's bodily fluids. I am a jealous man, and even if the offending person is dead, I won't be sharing space on her body with him. I need her clean and safe before I make her come over and over again.
"We have to go, pet," I kiss her again, needing another taste before I take the chance that she'll deny me and leave me here, aching for her. "You need to get cleaned up."
"Go?" she pants, her eyes fluttering open, beautiful and dazed with desire, her mind reeling to catch up with what I've said.
"We can go to my apartment," I suggest, easing an errant hair behind her ear. "I'm parked not too far from here."
She goes stiff, nerves filling her body. I can't say I blame her. I just offered to help her get away with murder and alluded to being a killer, too. She shouldn't want to go anywhere with me.
"Here," I take one of my hands off her, reaching into my pocket for my current I.D. "Take a picture and send it to whoever you need to so you feel safe."
A small smile lifts one side of her lips, "Really?"
I nod, watching her relax infinitesimally. "Yeah. I might be a psychopath and all, but I'm no threat to you, pet. Promise."
She laughs outright, her hand covering her mouth to keep the sound from drawing any unwanted attention.
When she reaches for my license, snapping a quick picture and shooting it off to whoever, she seems to feel slightly better.
"This could be a fake," she mentions with one eyebrow raised.
"It could be," I tell her, taking her hand to walk towards my ride. "But it's not. That's even my current address."
She lets her fingers entwine with mine, making my stomach feel funny and my dick protest against moving before I've taken pleasure in her warmth.
"How responsible of you," she chuckles, still holding onto my I.D. with her other hand. "I don't think I've ever updated my address on my license. It might still be my parents place."
She stops short as we round the corner, coming upon my bike.
"Oh, my god," she pushes her shoulder against mine. "You would have a motorcycle."
With a chuckle, I open the seat, grab my jacket, and ease into it, "What does that mean?"
"Hot. Crazy. Mysterious." She lifts her fingers, counting as she lists, smiling nervously, "And now driving a motorcycle. I'm not sure if you're the ultimate cliche or a dream come true."
I hum in thought, handing her my helmet, "Both, probably."
She laughs, and I make it my mission to draw that sound out of her again, every time I can between all the other sounds I need to hear her make.
Once she fastens the helmet, I tug on the strap, ensuring it's tight enough to keep her safe.
I climb on first, patting the seat behind me.
I can't see her face through the black screen of her helmet, but I can almost feel her beaming as she stares at me for a second before climbing on.
Her warm body presses tightly against my back, the heat driving me insane, deliriously pleading with the universe to be kind and let this drive home go by quickly so I can strip her bare and feel every inch of her hot flesh.
Her legs cradle mine as her arms wrap like a vice around my middle, enveloping me entirely. I turn the bike on, kick it into gear, and take off into the night, the speed making my little killer yelp in surprise, another sound I'm going to catalog and dream about for centuries to come.