CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #2
Or at least that’s what it feels like. Given the death I’d always pictured for myself, it feels like a great way to go.
It feels like the first time I saw him and thought he was an angel, something otherworldly and unreal.
Something I wanted to touch so badly but never could.
For a million and one reasons. Not anymore, though.
I am touching him, so I guess it feels even better than seeing him for the first time.
Although I didn’t take one thing into account. I don’t really know what I’m doing.
I’ve seen other people kiss before, not only on-screen but also in real life, but I’ve never been kissed myself.
In fact, I’ve actively avoided it. For all my bravado, I’ve spent my entire life avoiding someone touching me in ways only he has, and that includes letting someone put their mouth on mine.
And this is even more of an uncharted territory because I’m the one putting my mouth on someone.
Even so, I know I want to document everything. If this is the only kiss I’ll ever have with him, I want to memorize every single detail of this. So I start slow.
I focus on his mouth itself. I always knew it would be soft because his lips are all plush and full.
But I never could’ve imagined just how soft or bouncy.
So much so that every time I move my lips against his while giving him soft pecks, I get the urge to bite him.
I get the urge to sink my teeth into his soft, swollen, pillowy mouth and then suck on it.
Like a lollipop or something. Is that too girlish?
Or too young? Maybe. But I’ve never felt more my age than I do in this moment.
Not even during those awkward moments when he makes me blush with his playful words.
Not to mention, I get why sometimes I catch him licking his scar, that raised skin over his mouth.
One slide of my mouth over that puckered flesh and I’m obsessed.
I can’t stop touching it. Can’t stop going back to it over and over.
Maybe because it’s the part about himself that he hates the most. So it’s the part that needs the most love and tenderness.
Whatever the reason, it’s mine now. Mine to love on, mine to kiss, mine to pamper.
In fact, the whole of Radisson King is mine to care for.
He’s always the one growling and thumping his chest like a caveman, calling me his, so he can deal with this.
He can also deal with the fact that I’m completely addicted to his taste.
Probably because it’s not what I expected.
He smells of leather and spice so I thought he’d taste tart or even lemony, but he tastes the exact opposite.
He tastes sweet. Like honey or candy. Again, like a lollipop or something.
God, if I didn’t sound like a young college girl before, who also happens to be a freaking teenager, then I do now.
But you know what, fuck it. Isn’t that what I decided just now, before I threw myself in his arms?
If kissing him feels like candies and hearts, then so be it.
Now if only he’d participate. It’s been several seconds, a couple of minutes even, since I started kissing him, but he’s still not come out of his shock. He really needs to hurry up because I’m getting impatient here. I’m squirming in his arms, pulling at his hair, really pressing my mouth to his.
Which is when he wakes up. Thank God.
His chest moves against my body, almost violently, wildly.
Then comes his arm. I feel it move and go up from my back, his fingers tangling in my hair.
I feel him wrapping my braid around his palm, and all of that is so, so good that I sigh into his mouth.
I start to smile into our kiss when he pulls at my braid and yanks my head back.
I cry out with the initial pain but then moan when that pain melts into pleasure.
God, I’ll never get over how fucking sexy that is.
But I don’t have time to revel in his rough ministrations because keeping my head tilted back, he leans over me. “You never listen, do you?”
“I didn’t care about what you had to say,” I whisper back.
His eyes flash and his grip in my hair tightens. “That so?”
I pull at his hair, too, and flex my thighs around him. “Yes. I knew you were going to s-stop me, give me all the reasons why I shouldn’t do it.”
He runs his eyes over my face before he rasps, “You think you’re so smart, yeah?”
“No, I think I’m really fucking dumb for not doing this before.”
His jaw clenches. “Language.”
I smile and lick my lips. “Why don’t you spank me then?”
His eyes narrow.
“You can do it anywhere you like,” I keep going. “On my bouncy ass. Or even on my pink p—”
He growls, cutting me off. Then, “For a girl who don’t know how to kiss, you sure run your mouth like a fuckin’ slut.”
My thighs tremble and all I feel is stinging pleasure running through my veins at him calling me that. That being said, that was really rude of him to point out, and frowning, I tug at his hair. “That was mean.”
“You ain’t seen mean yet.”
“You know that was my first kiss.”
“And you shouldn’t have wasted it on a man like me.”
“See?” I flex my thighs around him, frowning even harder. “I knew you were going to say something like that. I knew—”
“Because,” he cuts me off, his face even closer and his fingers turning brutal in my hair, “I’ve been tryna do the right thing.
Been tryin’ really fuckin’ hard to keep you pure, innocent.
Unsullied.” He shakes his head at “unsullied.” “My life hasn’t been easy.
There’s been pain, you know that. So much goddamn pain that I don’t even notice it anymore.
But the last three days, of livin’ out here with you have been the most painful days of my life.
I’ve been burnin’”—his chest shudders again—“to get close to you. Achin’ from the scent of you.
Longin’ for the taste of you. To touch you, to not touch you.
To put my hands on you, to not put my hands on you.
It’s fuckin’ torture and I’ve been dyin’, darlin’, for you.
But then again, we both know you were sent to torture me, so I took it.
I told myself, I’ll do the right thing. I’ve already traumatized you enough to last a lifetime, I’ll let you live in peace.
And you know how hard it is for me to do the right thing, given all I’ve done ever since I laid eyes on you are the things both God and law would frown upon.
“But if you’re gonna throw your tight little body on me, all needy and horny, like you’ve got an ache between your sweet thighs only I can soothe; if you’re gonna kiss me like a college girl who’s never kissed anyone before and let me feel your virgin lips and taste your sugar breaths, you should know I ain’t gonna stop at that.
I ain’t just gonna kiss you and let you go back to your bed with a slight tingle on your mouth and your princess dress neatly tucked around you, no.
If I kiss you back, you’re comin’ with me.
To my bed. And I ain’t lettin’ you leave until every part of your body bears my mark, your skin bears my scent, and your clothes are lyin’ tattered on the floor.
Because when you kiss a hunter, darlin’, you better be ready to be captured and roped like his prey.
And we both know I’m the best goddamn hunter in these mountains. ”
My heart bangs in my chest and fear skitters down my spine.
But isn’t that why I wanted him to kiss me?
I told him he could have me if he kissed me.
That was my one and only rule, and now he has.
Or rather I have, but still. In any case, his threat hangs in the air like a black, swollen, stormy cloud.
And God, it makes me so wet.
Up until yesterday, up until an hour ago, I would’ve questioned myself, berated myself for this.
Not anymore, though. Now I embrace it and whisper, “That first time you tied me to a tree and I said I wasn’t afraid of you, you told me I’d learn to be.
I didn’t believe you. But I believe you now.
Because you were right. I am afraid of you.
” His jaw clenches and his muscles tighten up, but I keep going, “It’s just that for some very weird reason that I don’t understand, I love the way you scare me.
I love the way you make me shiver and shake.
I love the way you make me want to run even though I know it’ll only make things harder for me when I get caught.
It makes me want to please you and make you mad, both at the same time.
It makes me feel alive. You make me feel alive.
And I’ve never had that before. All I’ve ever had is fear, but only you have ever been able to make me feel safe while I’m afraid.
So if what you are is a hunter, then I want to be your prey.
If you’re a phantom, then I want to be your Princess.
Because I think for me, you’re my fate.”
He is that, isn’t he? I thought it was what my father decided for me. But I was wrong. It’s him. My Phantom with green eyes and a wicked scar.
Something washes over his features, something bright, and it happens when I utter the word “fate.” Like it’s something he’s thought of himself. That emotion was quick as the lightning across the dark sky, so I don’t get to analyze it. All I know is that it makes his eyes all green and intense.
“Radisson?” I ask.
His nostrils flare again and he mutters, “Fuck it.”
In the same breath, he goes ahead and puts his mouth on me. And candies and hearts, flowers and glitter, everything girly and dreamy explodes in my body.
Even though his kiss is much rougher than mine. Much more desperate and hungry.
His kiss isn’t even a kiss; it’s more of an invasion. A domination. Where he splays his hand on the back of my head and neck, capturing me, rendering me immobile. So he can go in. He can force his way inside my mouth and own me with his tongue.
Fuck me with his tongue. That’s the only way to describe it.