God of Wrath (Legacy of Gods #3) by Rina Kent

“Cecily?”

More chewing, but no reaction.

I grab the glass of vodka and place it to her lips. Maybe some alcohol will snap her out of it.

I’d pour it over her head, but that would shock her, and shocks aren’t good for getting someone out of a dissociation episode.

Her lips thin in a line and she swallows the gum. Her mouth doesn’t move, doesn’t allow even a droplet of alcohol inside. So I press on her cheeks in an attempt to make her open up. Her lips part slightly, but not enough.

I take a sip of the alcohol and then use that opening to seal my lips to hers and pour it in her mouth. She shudders in my hold, so I do it again; this time, my lips linger on her full, velvety ones longer than need be.

I bite her lower lip into my mouth, licking and toying with it. My tongue slips inside and latches onto hers, stroking, playing.

My cock twitches and strains against my jeans. Her taste, the flavor of her tongue, the way she slowly melts in my hold boils my blood.

Fuck her.

Finish what you started the last time and show her what it means to be fucked raw.

The beast inside me churns and writhes against its bindings, wanting to sink its teeth into her flesh, rip into her heat, and claim her.

But I force myself to focus on her reaction, on how she lets me kiss her, on how her lips turn pliant beneath mine.

The stiffness in her body slowly subsides. Her muscles loosen, slowly but surely molding into mine.

She even wiggles her ass against my cock, rubbing the tender flesh all over me. My erection grows against her skin beneath her jeans, and all attempts to keep my beast in its bindings wilt.

Cecily picks up her pace, her tongue meeting mine while her eyes remain closed. She lets me ravage her lips, kiss them, bite them, drink the alcohol I poured on her tongue from them.

Her small hands slide up my chest, feeling along the muscles, stroking, exploring as if it’s the first time she’s touching another person. She flat-out dry humps me, sliding her ass up and down my erection, matching the strokes of my tongue.

Her daring, albeit innocent, movements are enough to turn me into a raging animal.

I fist my hand in her silver hair and pull her back, wrenching my mouth from hers and forcing her to pause her ministrations.

“Stop that unless you’re ready to be fucked.”

Her eyes snap open and she freezes again, her bitten, red lips parting.

Not again.

I tighten my hold on her hair. “Don’t go there.”

“Go where?” she whispers as if she’s afraid of the sound of her own voice.

Wherever it is she goes to.

But that doesn’t seem to be the case right now since she just talked. That means she’s just in shock, and not zoning out.

“I…I thought this was a dream.” She avoids my eyes, stares at the ground, and rubs the side of her nose.

My lips curve, but my voice comes out husky. “Do you often dream about kissing and dry humping me, Lisichka?”

“I d-do not.”

“Your stuttering and quick reply don’t play in your favor.”

She pushes against my chest, a futile attempt to make me let her go, but I only tighten my hold on her hair.

“And now what?” she asks with a tinge of annoyance. Which means she’s at least in her right state of mind.

“Now, I ask you questions and you answer them.”

“Can’t we do that while I’m sitting on an actual chair?”

“What’s wrong with my lap?”

“I can feel your…uh, you know.”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you name it?”

She fixates me with a deadly glare but says nothing and quits fighting.

Cecily might be infuriatingly rebellious, but she knows how and when to pick her battles. With my fist in her hair, she’s well aware this isn’t a battle that she can possibly win.

“Why are you interested in me, Jeremy?” Her voice echoes in the silence with resignation.

“What makes you think I am?”

“The fact that you were stalking me.”

“I was keeping an eye on you.”

“Why?” The molten green of her eyes fires up. “Why me?”

“Because you had the audacity to capture my attention.”

“Can I un-capture it?”

“That’s not even a word. And the answer is no. You can’t make me do anything, Cecily. All my decisions are taken inward. Your actions, or the lack thereof, have no influence whatsoever, so don’t act stupid or desperate in order to drive me away. That will only make me retaliate and you’ll be collateral damage.”

A slow fire hums beneath the surface and her temperature rises. “So I’m supposed to take everything you dish out and remain put? That’s not who I am.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Moving on to a more important topic, do you remember what just happened?” I ask with enough nonchalance that it surprises me.

Cecily’s eyes widen and they fall on where she vomited earlier, then back to the painting she watched Landon through.

“You’re sick,” she tells me, lips trembling.

“For showing you Landon’s true nature?”

“For showing me sex.” Her throat works up with a swallow, and she looks nauseated again. “I don’t like looking at it.”

“Is that why you vomited?”