God of Malice (Legacy of Gods #1)(82)
But she keeps watching me with a distrustful edge.
“What?”
“I just can’t believe you’d actually be stopped by a please. If I’d known, I would’ve begged more earlier.”
“That wouldn’t have stopped me. If I decide to fuck my pussy, no one, you included, will be able to stop me.”
“You’re telling me you don’t want to fuck me now?”
“I do, but I also don’t want to hurt you.”
“You did that night at the cliff.” Her voice is soft.
“I know you’re not ready to admit it, but I felt something from you or I wouldn’t have continued.”
“Something like what?”
“Your desire.”
“No way would I have felt desire for you under those circumstances. You’re just making excuses.”
“No, I’m just telling you my side of the story.”
“So you’re not even sorry?”
“You know I don’t feel that. And I will not apologize for something we both enjoyed.”
“I did not enjoy it.” Her shoulders shake with how much she’s trying to suppress her nature.
I want to push her more, to make her admit to her true self, but what the fuck will I do if she starts crying?
Her tears, outside of sex, do shit to me. The bad type of shit.
When I remain silent, she wiggles in my hold, and to my surprise, it’s not to pull away but more to find a better position. “Also, you didn’t use a condom just now.”
“So? I know you’re on birth control.”
“How did you know that? Pretty sure I didn’t post it on IG.”
“But you had your IUD insertion at the hospital I intern in. I have access to records.”
“Ever heard of patience privacy?”
“Yeah. The professors bitch about it all the time.”
“And you still breached it. That’s illegal, you know.”
“Never stopped me before.”
“Then…how about STDs, aren’t you like Mr. Manwhore or something?”
“No, Miss Ex-Virgin. I am not a manwhore. In fact, I didn’t have sex the past two months and I’m clean. I always use condoms.”
“Not with me.”
“Not with you,” I repeat. “How else would I have felt your blood on my cock?”
“Would you stop talking like a creep?”
“A hot creep.”
“A creep is a creep.” She clears her throat. “I can’t believe you were celibate for two whole months.”
“Miracles happen.”
“Why?”
“Because sex started to get dull and I would rather not be bored to death.”
“I find that hard to believe, considering your persistence of fucking me.”
“You’re different.”
I can feel the moment her heartbeat quickens against my chest even as her face remains the same.
New resolution—always be in a position to feel her pulse, because that beautiful fucker never lies.
Unlike her.
“Is that why you’re giving me time out? Because I’m different?”
“I told you, I can be nice.”
She snorts. “You should really stop calling your down version nice when it’s merely a calm phase.”
“Down version?”
“You have those moments where you’re slightly amicable, but they’re often drowned out by your devil side.”
“Because you provoke it.”
“So it’s my fault that your nature is devilish.”
“No. But you can bring out my nice side if you choose to. It’d take effort since it doesn’t come naturally to me, but it can be done.”
“And how do I do that?”
“You don’t have to try sometimes. Like right now. Just having you this docile in my arms is enough.”
Her lips part, which is either an indication of surprise or being touched, or both. Hopefully, it’s both.
I like getting under her skin. It’s as close as I can get to seeing inside her without having her blood decorate my carpet.
She clears her throat. “Can I ask you something?”
“You already did.”
She rolls her eyes. “Can I ask another question?”
“You don’t have to ask for permission to ask me anything.”
Her throat works up and down with a swallow and I can barely resist the need to wrap my fingers around her neck.
This is bad.
I don’t usually like strangling outside of sex. But maybe the nudity status of our bodies is what’s triggering this.
Or I choose to believe that.
“Earlier, if I’d said no and asked you to stop, would you have stopped?”
“Why are you asking a hypothetical question when everything is said and done?”
“Because.”
“Bullshit. You feel guilty that you wanted me and you’re trying to convince yourself that you couldn’t have stopped this even if you’d tried.”
“Could I have stopped it?” she whispers.
“Maybe or maybe not.”
“That’s not an answer.”