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His
green
Technicolor
thunder
Lillte environmrntal elemnts to create the sxene in your imagination
Thunder crackled outside, almost as though the skies were having a laugh at her expense.
Her eyes moved from the knife to her trembling hands, seeing a lone red trail on the right one, starting at her wrist and ending on her forearm, almost as though her skin had cried and swallowed a bloody tear.
heaving as she looked at his expanding chest. He inhaled, stretching the shirt tight, and she watched the contractions as he exhaled, the sound clear over the phone. She'd never felt anyone's breaths before, never like this. It
Secrets were the stones that paved these roads. Threats were the truths that lay in this ground, morbid tales of lost men never to be seen again ringing around in the wind.
He was a pendulum. Swinging from one extreme to another within seconds. And that confounded her and irritated her because she couldn't get a read on him. At all. And she hated it.
The silence was rife with something, heavy with a kind of anticipation she could not understand, almost as if they were facing off at the edge of a cliff, a breath away from plunging down.
Blood rushed through her body, small currents running down her spine from where he held her neck, her breaths coming faster even as she tried to keep it under control.
Her fingers were wrapped around the man's hand before she knew it, and she snapped his wrist back hard, not enough to break a bone but enough to give him a serious sprain.
"We've been honest so far, Ms. Vitalio," he murmured. "I'll be honest now. I despise you but I want you. Fuck it, I do. And I want you out of my system."
"Just your cock then," she told him crudely, unabashedly, her body flaring with fury and desire, mingling in a way she couldn't tell which was which anymore.
A current zinged through her body, making her toes curl in her heels, the scent of her own arousal wafting up to her, making her even wetter. One of his hands circling the front of her neck, the other plowing into her folds expertly, his eyes holding hers captive.
It was basic, primitive, carnal. It was heated, wild, insane. But it was making her scream against his hand and see stars behind her closed eyelids.
Me: Planning to make me go somewhere, Mr. Caine? Tristan Caine: On the contrary, I’m planning to make you come somewhere, Ms. Vitalio. 5 minutes.
“Next time, I’m going to see how loud you can scream, Ms. Vitalio. I’m going to make you so sore you won’t know if it’s from the screaming or the fucking.”
The Predator. Always the hunter, never the hunted. He could not be hunted. He could not be tamed. He could not be destroyed. That kind of unbreakable aura was so, so tempting to her.
control.
Stressed
