Monster in His Eyes Page 5

  "I don't even know what you're going to school for."

  "Well, if you figure it out, let me know, because I'm still in the dark about that myself."

  "Ah, well, you're young. You have plenty of time."

  "That's what my mother says."

  "Your mother." He eyes me curiously. "Are you close with your family?"

  "Her I am," I say. "She's really the only family I have... the only family I'll ever have. I'm the lone kid of a single mother."

  His brow furrows. "No father?"

  "Nope," I say. "He ran out on us before I was born. My mother doesn't like to talk about it, so I don't know why."

  "There's only one reason he'd do that."

  "Why?"

  "Because he's a coward." His voice is stone cold serious. "A real man would never abandon his family."

  "Yeah," I say. "You're probably right."

  "But you know, they're not the only ones who matter," he continues. "The family we're born into is important, sure, but they're not all we have. They're not all we are. A part of life is making your own family. That's the beauty of it all."

  I smile softly. "Do you have a big family?"

  "I do," he says, "but most of us aren't blood related."

  There's something refreshing about the way he thinks, the way he looks at the world. He doesn't just accept the hand he's dealt.

  After a moment, he motions toward my glass. "Drink up."

  I slouch back in my chair, sipping my champagne. "Yep, you're definitely trying to get me drunk."

  "I am," he admits, leaning over the table, closer to me. "How else am I going to get you to come home with me?"

  Those words send tingles down my spine. I'm not sure if it's excitement or apprehension. "You could just ask."

  He stares at me, eyes surveying my face as his expression falls serious, his voice dropping low. "Come home with me, Karissa."

  My breath hitches. "That's not a question."

  "Doesn't matter," he says. "Come home with me, anyway."

  I go home with him.

  Everything tells me not to, down to common sense. Even Naz's earlier words about not trusting people should've turned me away.

  But still, I go home with him.

  What can I say?

  The warnings are a shout in the wind, swallowed up in the atmosphere. He's compelling and chivalrous, gorgeous and generous, and I'm intoxicated and in desperate need of something... something that he stirs up, something strong, and primal. He awakens the animal inside of me.

  But it's nothing compared to what I see in his eyes. He turns to me as soon as we're alone in his house. The air is heavy, and his eyes are dark, the blue like midnight in the dim lighting. It's like seeing him for the first time all over again, but being greeted by an entirely different creature.

  He's a beast. A monster.

  And he looks like he wants to devour me.

  He steps toward me. His voice is low and husky. "Have you ever been with a man, Karissa?"

  My heart hammers hard in my chest as I nod. "I've had sex before."

  "That's not what I asked," he says, pausing right in front of me, the tip of his shoes touching mine as he stares down at me. "I don't care about those boys who might've fumbled around between your legs a time or two. I want to know if you've been with a man."

  I hesitate before slowly shaking my head. If he is a man, if this is what being with a man is like, I've never been with one. I've messed around with boys at parties, even had a boyfriend for a while back in Watertown that took my virginity in the backseat of a rusty Chevrolet. But whatever is happening right now between us is something I've never felt before.

  It's electricity.

  He cups my chin with his hand, tilting my face so I have no choice but to look him in the eyes. His thumb sweeps along my bottom lip, and I let out a shuddering breath as he leans closer, tilting his head like he's going to kiss me, but he pauses there instead. His gaze burns through me, seeping down into my soul, seizing me like a prisoner.

  I'm a willing captive.

  "You don't have to be afraid," he says. "I'm not going to hurt you."

  He kisses me then. His lips are soft—so, so soft, like velvet, a stark contrast to the roughness of the rest of him. His kiss is gentle, little more than breaths against my lips that I eagerly inhale, taking him in. I let out a soft moan, hardly catching it as he whispers, "unless you want me to."

  A hint of a smile takes over his face when he pulls away. I should be alarmed. I should head right back out that front door and run far, far away, but I can't. I can do nothing but stand there and shiver as he lets go of me, taking a step back. He regards me for a moment, eyes sweeping down my body, as his smile grows.

  He's a child with a brand new toy, and I just hope he doesn't break me as soon as I'm out of the package.

  He's on me then, his hands seeking me out as his lips once more meet mine. None of the gentleness from a moment ago is in his touch. He seizes me, pulling me into his grasp, taking my breath away with his hard kiss. I gasp as he lifts me up, hands gripping my hips. I cling to him, wrapping my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, holding on for dear life.

  He's strong—Jesus, he's stronger than I expected, holding me like I'm weightless as he carries me upstairs to his bedroom. As soon as we're inside, he kicks the door shut and hauls me over to the bed, his lips still on mine.

  He lays me back on the crisp white sheets, him on top, his weight pressing down on me, constricting my chest. My lungs burn, the butterflies in my stomach flapping wildly, ready to take flight.

  A strange thrill soars through me when he moves from my mouth, his lips trailing down my jaw line, finding my neck. He kisses and licks, his teeth grazing the skin, as his hands hike up my dress, shoving it to my waist.

  I barely have time to think, to agonize over the fact that I'm pretty sure I'm wearing plain white cotton panties that are probably not sexy at all, when his hand slips beneath the flimsy fabric, fingertips grazing my clit. My back arches involuntarily as a gasp escapes my throat, the jolt of pleasure tearing through my insides, the first lightning strike of an oncoming storm.

  I'm caught in a whirlwind. There's no other way to describe it, no way to explain it, except that I've been swept up so fast that I can no longer even see the ground. His hands are all over me, tearing off clothes, as his lips seek out every stitch of exposed skin.

  The dress is yanked off and flung across the room, barely hitting the floor before he's leaving a searing trail of kisses down my stomach. Slipping his hands beneath me, he makes speedy work of my bra, tearing it off.

  He grasps the sides of my panties, and I lift up instinctively when he tugs them down. My knees find one another, drawn together like magnets, as my hands cover my breasts, timidly shielding my naked body from his view as he sits back. He regards me warily, seeming to hesitate for a fraction of a second when he sees how I'm laying there, but it doesn't deter him from pulling his shirt off. His hands make work of his pants, unbuckling the belt and unzipping them, the sound seeming to echo through the quiet room.

  It makes my heart race faster than before, so frenzied my vision blurs when he pulls them off along with his boxers, leaving him just as naked as I am.

  I can't look.

  I can't look.

  I can't help it.

  I look.

  I have to.

  He pries my legs apart and moves to the space between them. My eyes are drawn down his broad chest, following the trail of shadowy hair along his toned stomach, straight to his cock. My eyes widened when I catch sight of it.

  He plans to fit that thing inside of me?

  I only get a brief glimpse, a murky silhouette in the darkness as he grasps ahold of his cock and strokes it, before I feel it pressing against me. My eyes drift closed as he rubs the head of it against my clit, sending those tiny jolts of electricity through me.

  "I'll take it easy on you," he says as he pushes inside of me for the first time, moving
slowly, covering my body with his.

  Don't, a part of me screams, the animal inside trying to claw its way out, but I swallow the word down, almost terrified to verbalize it. I don't know what he means, and I'm already in way, way over my head as it is. I feel like a virgin all over again, except I wasn't nearly as nervous back then. I was just handing over my body then, letting them caress my skin, but I have a feeling this man's planning to go much deeper than that with me.

  He pulls out before pushing back in again, moving agonizingly slow, letting my body adjust, but I don't think that's possible. I don't think I can ever get used to him.

  "If you want me to stop, just tell me," he says, "and I will."

  "Should we…" My voice is a strained whisper. "I mean, should I have a safe word or something?"

  I've watched movies, I've read books, and I'm not sure how kinky this man gets.

  He stalls mid-thrust, pulling back to look at me, his eyebrow curving. I can see the twinkle in his eyes, amusement, the monster intrigued by my question. "Do you want one?"

  "I, uh… do I need one?"

  He seems to consider that for a moment, halfway inside of me, before shaking his head and pushing into me, a little harder this time, making my breath hitch.

  "Not this time," he says, fighting off a smile. "Just relax, Karissa."

  I try.

  Dammit, I try.

  But as soon as I start to relax, Naz finds his rhythm, hiking my legs up to fill me deeply. I gasp, my hands running through his hair, the slight curls surprisingly soft, as he leans down to kiss me. With his lips on mine, he thrusts hard, so hard he nearly knocks the breath from my lungs. Unnatural noises escape my throat that he greedily swallows with his kiss, increasing his pace, eliciting more of the sounds from me.

  Again.

  And again.

  And again.

  I suspected it, from his earlier question, but it isn't until he's inside of me, pounding against me, his arms wrapped around me, holding me so tightly I can hardly breathe, fucking me so hard I can barely think, that I realize just how much I've been missing. Everything before this moment was child's play, but this man is the major league.

  He fucks me like he means it, like he needs it, like being inside of me is more important than anything inside of him, and every cell in my body calls out to him, craving more of it. His hands work magic on my skin, slipping between us to stroke my clit. The mere touch sends sparks through me. He rubs circles around it, as my body grows taut. I can feel it, building and building, the pressure filling me up until I'm about to burst.

  The pleasure explodes inside of me, unlike anything I've ever experienced before. I squeeze my eyes shut. It's like fireworks all around me when all I've ever seen before were measly sparklers. I cry out, arching my back, my breasts flush against his chest. I can feel myself convulsing around him, squeezing his cock for a second before it's gone. He pulls out, pulls away from me just as I start to come. I'm momentarily stunned by the absence of everything—I feel nothing but coldness, air all around me. No warmth. No him.

  No nothing.

  My orgasm fades away as soon as it hits, the fireworks a dud that fizzle and fade into the night sky.

  Oh, God. No. No. No. Don't do this to me.

  My eyes snap open as the bed shifts, and I barely have time to glance over when he pushes my legs apart wider, his tongue softly grazing my clit.

  Oh, God. Wait. Yes. Yes. Yes.

  He licks and sucks, pumping his fingers inside of me, his head between my thighs. Gasping, I run my hands through his hair, grasping ahold of the locks, as I shudder. It takes a few seconds for the fading pleasure to sweep back through me, somehow even more intense, swaddling my entire body in heat.

  Orgasm rocks me, and I let out a shriek, arching my back as I convulse. He doesn't let up, doesn't stop, his tongue running circles around my clit before he sucks on it, his fingers deep inside of me.

  I relax back into the bed, panting when the sensation subsides, but I don't have time to catch my breath. He's inside of me again, thrusting deep, as his lips find mine. I don't even think about it, don't hesitate, kissing him deeply as he laughs against my mouth.

  "You like that?" he asks, his voice strained, like he can't quite catch his breath. "Can you taste yourself?"

  I'm embarrassed for a second, long enough for my face to heat, as he kisses me again, and again. I can taste myself, but I don't have a chance to dwell on it, because he's fucking me just as frenzied as before. His hips slam into mine, noises escaping my throat that he continues to smother with his kiss. I can feel his breath coming out in pants as he thrusts mercilessly, desperately.

  And then he's off of me again, pulling out. This time he sits back on his knees and grasps his cock, stroking it as he tilts his head back, eyes closed. I stare at him in the moonlight, stunned by the sight of him coming, a mix of agony and pleasure seeming to twist his features as he grunts. He slows his strokes, stilling his hand, and just sits there, his chest falling and rising as he breathes deeply.

  It's beautiful.

  I don't know how else to describe it.

  Naz is a work of art, confident in every aspect, and it's certainly warranted. I just lay there, my body made of jelly, while he towers above me like fortified steel. I'm suddenly weak and helpless, oh-so-vulnerable and at his mercy, at his disposal, and he's not dented even the slightest bit.

  I'm fucked.

  Literally.

  Figuratively.

  The man has fucked me in every sense of the word.

  I'm no longer a charity case.

  I'm a glorified prostitute.

  The alcohol is fading from my system. I'm sweaty, and sticky, an ache between my thighs intensifying as clarity seeps in. Every cell in my body yearned for this earlier, yearned for him, except for the ones in my head.

  Stupid brain cells.

  They'd been lost in a champagne-induced haze, but now they want to come back around and throw a wrench in my moment with their damn common sense.

  Anxiety fuels a touch of sickness, sickness that I fight to swallow down, but it burns the back of my throat, the coppery bitter tang on my tongue like I'd stuck it to the end of a battery.

  Acid. Pure acid. I want to purge it from my system.

  It's late, well after midnight, I assume. I'm not sure. Apart from having no bathroom in here, Naz also has no damn clocks. I feel like I've been lying in his bed for hours, too edgy to sleep, tangled up in his sheets. He's beside me, but not touching me, no more than six inches of space separating our naked bodies, but the man suddenly feels miles away.

  I'm agonizing over what to do, what to think, replaying every moment I've spent with Naz, when a peculiar ring echoes through the room. It's muffled, a series of beeps that sounds almost like Morse code. At once, Naz slips away, climbing out of bed and rifling through his pants on the floor. He pulls out his phone, giving a brief glance at the screen before answering with a curt, "Hello."

  He heads toward the door as whoever's on the line addresses him, and lets out a deep sigh as he steps into the hallway. "No, I haven't gotten it yet, but I'm on it."

  I hear no more, unable to make out his words as he strolls along the hallway in the dark, away from my range of hearing. Not like I'm trying to eavesdrop or anything. But he returns after a moment, slipping back into the bedroom, and haphazardly tosses his phone back down on his pile of clothes.

  The bed shifts as he climbs in beside me. His hands seek me out this time, wrapping around me, pulling me back against him. Once again, his strength astounds me as he tugs me into his arms like I'm made of nothing. I feel almost like a rag doll being manhandled.

  Sweeping my hair aside, he kisses the side of my neck, something about it easing my nervousness. I feel safe, strangely enough, like a caterpillar wrapping up in a cocoon, waiting to sprout wings.

  "I'm surprised you're still awake," he says quietly. "Maybe I shouldn't have taken it so easy on you."

  Despite myself, I smile at t
hat. I can't fathom that being Naz when he's subdued. Unrestrained, the man would knock me into next week.

  "What time is it?" I ask.

  "Two o'clock."

  Ugh. "I should probably go."

  "Why?"

  "Because it's late."

  "So?"

  "So…" So, I don't know. "I just thought…"

  He hums in my ear, his hand slowly sliding down my torso to the ache between my legs. "Less thinking, more feeling."

  Sighing, I close my eyes. He takes the words right from me. His hands caress my skin, stroking my clit, as he pins me against him. It only takes a few seconds for my breaths to come out as whimpers.

  "That's it," he whispers. "Just feel it."

  Feel it, I do… I feel it in all of me, the pressure building until I can't take it anymore. "Please. Don't stop."

  "Whatever you want."

  "Oh God, yes. Yes. Don’t…" My breath hitches, my voice strained as I feel it sweep through me. "Stop."

  "Stop?"

  He stops.

  He fucking stops.

  "No, no, no," I chant, shifting my hips, desperate for the friction before it fades away. "Don't stop. Please."

  He chuckles in my ear as his hand moves again, stroking me. His lips find my neck as my body tenses at the release of pleasure. I gasp, incoherent words seeping from my lips. A moment later the pleasure fades away as he stops, for real this time, his hand stilling, cupping the spot between my thighs.

  "I like it when my woman knows what she wants," he says, his hand drifting up again, slowly moving along my chest, before reaching my face. I'm stunned by his words, even more shocked when his hand finds my mouth. His fingertips caress my bottom lip before his pointer finger brushes against my tongue. "I like it when she tastes like Heaven, too."

  I shiver as he kisses along my neck and down my shoulder, pausing as he presses a kiss on my shoulder blade. His mouth lingers there as he pulls his hand away from my mouth.

  "Stay," he says. "I'll take you home in the morning. I have to go that way, anyway."

  "Okay," I whisper, but he doesn't wait for my answer. His hands leave my skin, the void sweeping over me as he pulls away, turning over in the bed to go to sleep.