Dirty Looks and Dark Promises

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** Warning! Some parts of this chapter are mature. Nothing too graphic... yet... but over 18 material, nonetheless. Further chapters will contain mature content also, but I'll warn you as required.

Otherwise, if you're able to, please enjoy my latest update! ;D **

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" I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. (Pablo Neruda) "

So... the famous women's dirty look, the one that's supposed to set men quaking in their boots and running for the nearest man cave, has not worked! In fact, it's backfired big time. Big, big time!

"This is sexual harassment!" Way to go, girl! Spoken like a boss- except for the fact it comes out as little more than a breathless squeak, far from the confident, commanding tone I was going for.

Water drips from my soaked hair onto my burning cheeks as I make the mistake of glancing down. My eyes still sting from my fall into the soapy water, so I close them, blessedly blocking the sight of the devil's forearms wrapped around my chest an inch beneath my bare breasts. It's impossible, however, to block out the feel of my butt cheeks rubbing against his hard, er... male bits.

Alessandro makes it obvious he has never heard of this strange and foreign concept as he brushes aside my accusation. "As your mate, there's no one you're safer with than me. I'll protect you with my life." The last word is growled into the side of my head, just behind my ear.

Squinting at the full-length mirror as the devil carries me past it, I can just make out how my rapid panting inflates my chest, thereby highlighting my bare breasts in an embarrassingly lewd manner. The predatory heat in the eyes meeting my red-rimmed ones in the mirror makes it clear I'm not the only one's who's noticed. I cross my arms, trying to cover my jiggly bits as his eyes blaze dissatisfaction at my attempts to hide.

The phrase 'don't poke the sleeping bear' comes to my mind right now. I didn't actually poke the devil. No poking occurred, with a stick or otherwise- but I did give him a very dirty stare as he waited, arms crossed, for me to climb into the large steaming bath he so kindly prepared. Of course, he chivalrously undressed himself first, while I counted cracks in the ceiling with an unprecedented intensity, then indicated I was to disrobe next.

Yep. You can probably guess my reaction to that order! A predictable "sooo not happening"... and the devil was totally understanding about my shyness; my hesitancy at stripping naked in front of a fully grown, red-blooded male.

Not!

And that was how... after some further four-letter word responses to his repeated demands I undress, then his attempt to do the job himself... I came to be in this particular situation!

Okay, okay... so I might have flipped him the bird, as well. How was I supposed to know that would result in such a violent and immediate reaction? Matty and I used to do it all the time, so often it was almost an affectionate gesture between us. Certainly not something to get your panties in a twist about. Unless my parents caught me. That got me severely grounded. But I made sure that only happened once. Getting caught and grounded, I mean. Didn't stop me giving Matty the one fingered salute in private, and I considered him a mate- my bff, actually.

He never once looked so thunderous. Nor did his eyes ever narrow in on my mine with such predatory heat. He certainly never chased me around the room while I flailed and squealed, stripping me bare in between struggles, and he never, ever pressed every inch of his bulging muscled length against my naked body...

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