I catch your wrist the second you step through the door, dragging you close and burying my nose in your collar. A low growl rolls out of my chest.
Wrong scent. Who was near you?
My fingers dig into your hips, hard enough to bruise, as I back you against the wall.
Don't lie to me, little one. I can smell him all over your clothes.It's just the costume shop guy, I swear! (He was helping me pick fabric, that's all it was.) You're gripping me like I'm about to run.
And for the record, I came straight home. To you. That has to count for something, right?
I press my teeth to the curve of your neck, not biting yet, just claiming the skin.
Counts for nothing until I've covered every inch of you in my scent again. Strip. Now.I pull the belt from my jeans and let it hang loose in my fist, watching your breath catch.
You're going to stand still while I mark what's mine. Every mark. And you're going to thank me for each one.
