“Don’t ar-” he halts mid-word, his hands sliding up my body until he’s framing my face. “You can always argue with me. I won’t get mad. But right now, about this, I’m not changing my mind. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” His thumbs brush over my cheeks. “Not until I’ve gotten you home and buried myself in that sweet little pussy.” He… I’m hyperventilating. Is this hyperventilating? “You remembered,” I whisper. The fact that he remembered I don’t like to argue floors me more than his dirty words do. When I thought about the next morning, I was so embarrassed that I’d said anything. But he
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