29| Possessions and Promises

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"Stop looking at me like that." She grumbled, playing with the strap of her seatbelt as she tried her best to avoid the heat of my gaze. She squirmed in her seat, her pale skin flushing even harder as the hot air blasted through the space between us.

She was shivering now, the heat taking its time to filter through the cheap layers of her clothing as she hissed out a breath and leaned towards one of the little vents, curling her fingers towards its warmth as it pooled into her hands. She let out a breathy little sigh as the hot air finally sunk into her skin, the sound of her satisfaction striking through me as my gaze flickered to her lips with the desperate need to close the distance between us again.

"Stop looking at you like what?" My words came out in a haze, waiting for her pretty brown eyes to refocus on me and rekindle the purpose of the feelings that were raging like a storm inside of me.

My need to have her in any way that she'd let me was a fierce thing in my chest, floundering against everything I knew and I couldn't get enough of it.

It was a violent neediness, an unmoving desire, an aggressive hunger, and all it did was grow tall and wide, even in the darkest conditions, even in the most poisonous of states—even as I tried to smother it out and stomp it down. My feelings for her were like a plant overgrowing its place, and if I didn't give it the sufficient amount of space it needed to thrive then it would only end up suffocating everything it touched.

She was mine in the most possessive of ways and she was so completely unaware of the way my lust for her was transforming into something so much more, so oblivious to the way she was slowly attaching herself to my soul. It was a dangerous demand, a volatile claiming, and yet I knew it would only be more dangerous to pretend it did not exist.

She puffed out her cheeks when she glanced my way again, her annoyance shooting a thrill straight down my spine as she scrunched up her nose in exasperation.

I hadn't known it then, but I was fucked the first moment she had ever laid her eyes on me. It was like a connection had sparked in place, and everything that had happened after that was just the cement that kept it steady.

Every touch, every threat, every taunt was a product of what we wanted from each other, but the kiss we had just shared managed to rile me up more than anything else ever had.

Lola was way too sweet for all the filthy things I was imagining doing to her, of the positions I wanted to twist her into and of all the ways I wanted to bend her body out of shape. I already knew she was a good listener, and I already knew she liked to take whatever I gave her—she had proven it in all the ways she had already given me what I wanted, but to hear her sweet moans as I fucked her to an inch of her life, my name the only thing she could remember as I kissed her in places she had never been kissed and fucked her in all the ways she had only ever dreamed of—it was an addiction waiting to take root, to tear me apart and pull at my seams.

"Aren't you supposed to be driving me home or something?" Her unassuming voice twisted around me as I shuffled in my seat, taking a deep breath as I tried to uncoil the tension from my limbs, hoping that my need for her wasn't tenting in the front of my pants.

"Come on, sweetheart—" I sighed again, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel as I sought out every ounce of control I had left in my body. "Don't use that voice with me, it's not my fault that you're a very distracting passenger. The least you could do is spare me a little sympathy, I'm trying my best to be the gentleman that you want and not the gangster you're afraid of."

"I'm not even doing anything," She scoffed. "You're just being impossible as always."

I laughed softly at that, the sound fluttering between us as I moved my hand to press against the top of her leg. She flinched against the sudden contact, her gaze falling to my grip as I felt her muscles tensing under my touch.

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