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That’s all he needs.
The shirt comes off and joins his somewhere behind us, his eyes taking their time on the way back to my face. By the time they get there, my skin is burning, and the look on his face tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “Keep looking at me like that, and we’re never making it to the bed.”
His eyebrow lifts as if that sounds perfectly fucking reasonable.
I laugh and shove lightly at his chest. “Bed.”
He catches my hand, kisses my palm, then starts walking me backward again.
My fingers work at his jeans while his hands settle at my waist, helping me out of mine between kisses and quiet laughter when getting undressed while refusing to stop touching each other turns out to require more coordination than either of us currently possesses.
At some point my jeans end up kicked toward the chair. His land somewhere closer to the door, and I lose track of everything else because Carnage’s mouth is back on mine, his hands sliding around my waist.
By the time we’re down to our underwear, there’s a trail of clothes behind us, my hair is thoroughly tousled, and Carnage is wearing that smug half smile again.
I hook my fingers into my panties and slide them down at the same time he pulls his off, and we both stand, looking at each other naked. I can’t help but stare at his hellhound-sized cock, that’s standing loud and proud for me right now.
“Holy shit.”
He tilts his head as if to say, ‘There’s nothing holy about that.’ Then his eyes wander up and down my body suggestively.
“Don’t,” I warn, and his eyebrows rise innocently. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”
His smile only gets worse.
“Yeah, that face isn’t helping your case.”
His silent laugh brushes warm against my mouth before he kisses me again, and this time when he moves forward, I go with him willingly, my hands sliding around his neck as his settle at my waist. Then the back of my legs finally hit the bed.
Carnage stops so abruptly I nearly stumble into him.
His mouth leaves mine, and for a second, I’m breathing hard against his chest, trying to work out why he pulled away.
Then I look up.
He’s watching me.
The heat is still there, burning bright in those amber eyes, but he makes no move to push me backward onto the mattress. His hands slide slowly down my arms instead, fingers curling loosely around mine when they reach them.
Waiting.
His eyes search mine, the heat in them held carefully in check as his fingers give mine the smallest squeeze.
I know exactly what he’s asking.
Still okay?
After twelve years of people deciding what happens to me, where I belong, what my voice should be used for, this hellhound who could tear the room apart with his bare hands is standing here waiting for me to choose.
So I do.
I slide my hand down, wrap it around his cock, and stroke him once… twice.
Carnage’s eyes darken.
“That clear enough?”
His grin nearly ruins me.
