Page 89 of Wallflower

Before I know it, my lips are pressed to his and I’m swallowing his groan of hunger. The sound shoots right to my clit, making it thump with need.

Slowly, Rip pulls away. Panting heavily, “Wait,” he says, “I brought you breakfast.”

“You want to stop?”

“Well, no, bu—” I cut him off with another kiss, slipping my tongue out to brush his lips, coaxing his out to tangle with mine.

I feel the moment he surrenders to this, all notions about stopping for food long forgotten. His hands slide up and overmy ass, curving around to grip my hips as he guides me into his lap. Rip’s erection brushes against me as I straddle him, and I undulate my hips, rubbing my clit against his hardness. His fingers tighten, digging into my flesh hard enough to leave marks. The sensation spurs me on.

Fuck breakfast, we can eat after we’ve worked up an appetite.

My hand glides across Rose’s skin, travelling up to tangle in her soft waves. How can she command me so easily? A simple kiss from her has me abandoning the plan that riddled me with anxiety-plagued second guesses. I can’t help but feel the time I’m forced to be away from her will do my brain good, no matter how much I loathe the thought of leaving her here unprotected.

My kiss travels across her jaw, moving reverently down her neck. The urge to spread her out on this mattress and feast until she soaks me infiltrates my pleasure. The need to taste her swarming me as I drag my tongue across her skin. She writhes against my cock, the sensation almost enough to distract me from the foul chalky flavour assaulting my taste buds.

My fingers coil tight in the hair at the base of her neck, holding her still. Rose gasps from the sudden pain, struggling to catch my gaze as I force her head back, showcasing me her throat. I collect the bitter, waxy residue on my tongue and spit it onto the floor. The beige colour stands out against the grey carpeting. “Why are you wearing make-up?” My voice is not at all gentle as an unending loop of negative thoughts carousel around my brain.

“I’m no?—”

“Don’t you dare insult me with a fucking lie, flower. I can see it.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” she meekly replies.

“I didn’t ask whose fucking idea it was, I asked why.”

“Because I’m not to be touched by anyone but you.” Her voice is so hushed I can barely make out the words between her increasingly panicked breaths.

“And you were?”

She nods.

“By who?”

She slightly shakes her head, curling her lips around her teeth and biting down to keep the words caged.

“Rose, I cannot keep you safe if you don’t tell me.”

“You cannot keep me safe at all!” she explodes, reefing my fist from her hair and launching herself from my lap. “Not while I’m stuck here. And I will bend to them to keep her safe. You don’t understand.”

Rising from the bed, I close in on her. She backs away from me, but I direct her into the chair, steps faltering as her calves collide with the seat. Rose falls back into the cushions, the forest green dress I previously laid out there falling to the carpet.

Resting my hands on the arms of the plush chair, I confine her. Leaning in, my lips brush the shell of her ear. “Listen very carefully, my flower,” I whisper. “There isn’t a single person herethat I wouldn’t kill. It may not be now, but when the time comes, I’ll do it. You only need to tell me who. I’ll let you watch if it soothes your soul. Fuck, I might even let you pull the trigger because the simple thought of your violence awakens a thirst in me I’ve never experienced.”

“Ripley…” she exhales.

“Shhh, come…eat.” Pulling away, I extend my hand. She hesitantly slips hers into it, and I lead us back to the bed, grabbing the fruit platter along the way.

Rose slinks onto the sheets, lying on her side. Propped up on one arm, she looks like a deity I have no business being this near to. Patting the space next to her, I place the food there. Her confused face finds mine, but I’m pleased to see the bashful expression overcome it when I slide in behind her.

The distance across the bed may as well have been cavernous, and that simply wouldn’t do since I need to coax the truth from between her fearful lips.

Lazily, I drape my arm over her. The position of my body mirrors hers, but the size comparison is laughable. “Hungry?” I murmur against her nape.

“Not really.”

“Want to tell me what happened then?”

The sound of the plastic fruit tray container opening breaks through the silence, and I release a soft chuckle. Such a stubborn woman. It’s not like I won’t get what I want from her eventually.