Digging her nails into his backside, she ground her sex against his hard-on.
Quinn ripped his mouth from hers. “Fuck, Rose!” His eyes were red as he glared at her. “I told you—”
“Fuck you, Quinn! You think I’m still the virgin who’s going to obediently spread her legs for you? If you wanna fuck, then we’ll do it my way!”
Before he could reply, she reached behind her, releasing the clasp of her bra, sliding the irritating garment off her body.
His gaze instantly shot to her breasts.
“And what way is that, Rose?” he ground out, the tips of his fangs peeking from between his lips.
Her mouth salivated at the sight. She’d never before considered the view of extended fangs sexy. But now, the way he glared at her, it suddenly weakened her knees.
“Well, it sure isn’t the way you did it back then!”
His eyes narrowed. Well, now she’d done it. He looked furious. He growled low and dark.
“I know what you’re doing. It’s not working.”
She lifted her chin. “What do you think I’m going?”
“Don’t play daft! You think by insulting me, can get out of your obligation. How stupid do you think I am? I’m going to have you. Right now. There’s no way out.”
It wasn’t at all what she’d been doing, but there was no point in correcting him. All she’d wanted was to get it over with, with as little emotional involvement as possible. And that meant as quickly as possible, without any drawn out foreplay.
Before her eyes, his hands turned into claws. In vampire speed, he ripped her jeans to shreds, tossing the destroyed garment to the floor. Her bikini panties followed.
She should feel at least a little scared, yet no such feeling took hold. Instead, her nipples tightened and a steady trickle of moisture made its way to the outer lips of her sex.
Quinn took a steadying breath, hoping Rose didn’t notice that he was practically drooling. She was even more beautiful than he remembered her. Her body was more mature, her hips a little rounder than that night he’d taken her virginity. And her breasts were fuller too. Had the pregnancy done that to her? Was that why she was even more feminine now?
Her skin was still alabaster, her hard nipples a dark tan color, and her lips a deep red. He smelled the scent of her arousal and noticed the dew that glistened on the curls that guarded her sex. As his eyes roamed over her naked body, his anger dissipated. His claws turned back to fingers, but his fangs remained extended. The state of his fangs had nothing to do with anger, and everything to do with lust and desire.
Knowing how close he was to grabbing her and pressing her against the wall, fucking her standing up, he balled his hands into fists. No, he wouldn’t allow her to control him like this. He would fuck her just like any other woman, and after it was over, he would realize that there was nothing special about it, that sex with her would be just like sex with any other woman.
“Lie down.”
Her lips opened as if wanting to protest.
“Now, Rose!”
Maybe she had seen the determination in his eyes, or maybe the fact that he had shredded her pants had finally made it clear to her that he wasn’t joking, but she complied with his request and stretched out on the bed.
She looked like a kitten, her beautiful body contrasted against the dark red sheets, her blond hair fanned out around her like a halo. One leg angled, she made an attempt at hiding her exposed sex from him. Despite the coldness she’d displayed, he had to wonder whether this meant anything to her.
She’d made it clear that she’d seen many men naked. It had been her way of telling him that she’d slept with countless men since he’d deflowered her. Flaunting this fact, was an attempt at angering him, for sure. It shouldn’t matter, yet it did. Knowing that other men had touched her, been inside her, pleasured her, made his blood boil.
His anger was back in an instant. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe the anger he felt inside him would prevent him from making this into more than it was: pure sex. An itch he needed to scratch.
Determined to prove to himself that she meant nothing to him anymore, he lowered himself onto the bed, pushing her legs apart in the process. He noticed how she closed her eyes. He didn’t care. If she didn’t want to look at him, it didn’t matter. She’d gawked at him earlier, and those few seconds when her eyes had roamed his half naked body had given him some satisfaction. If she wanted to deny it now that there were still remnants of desire between them, then he’d allow it.
Smelling her arousal more intensely, now that her legs were spread before him, reminded him of how he’d feasted on her that night, how he’d enjoyed licking her, drinking her nectar. But he wouldn’t do it tonight. This wasn’t lovemaking. It was simply sex. If only he could convince his body of this fact.