Clay's Unwanted Blondie

Chapter 26

๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙BROOKE ˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑

STICKING YOUR FINGER in a jar of Nutella for a fourth time right after you'd sworn you wouldn't lick the gooey thing off your fingers again couldn't compare to this moment.

"N-No...*kiss*...this is wrong...*kiss*-

Her words meant one thing yet her lips—the traitorous things—leaned in for more of him.

Clay Cervantes kissed like it was his sole occupation. Like he had been training all his life for this.

They had kissed, ofcourse they had kissed once but this?

This was mind-blowing, knee weakening, earth shattering, orgasmic, punishing.

His behavior disgusted her. He was the same shallow human being who refused to see his sister was in love, who'd punched his brother in the nose, who'd turned to her with eyes imbued with fire.

And he had told her to run with a thunderous voice that nearly made her flinch.

At that moment, his deep guttural voice had stirred fury, passion, hatred. A dangerous mix really.

Clay didn't get to tell her off like he did with his siblings. She wasn't just some toy he could control and she was tired of it.

With a deluded head, a raging heart, a spitfire stoking inside her, she defied him.

He didn't get to control what she wanted. He didn't get to be the only one who felt like this.

Like pouncing on him, ripping him apart and then fucking him till the ravenous lust died down.

Spoiler alert, it didn't die down.

His right hand gripping her neck, he pulled her to him angling her to deepen the kiss.

Rough, whip lashing, his lips found hers and she mimicked his every move trying to keep up but the damn bastard sought control. His other hand snuck up her quilt jacket and found her ass beneath it squeezed and slapped it.

She gasped and he took the gasp right out of her gaining entry into her mouth.

Then his tongue dueled with hers, tasting every inch of her, meandering through the recesses of her mouth with wonder and the expression 'weak in the knees' had never felt real like at that very moment.

She wasn't sure she wanted control anymore because this man, the man that smelled like sage, sex and citrus had taken every last bit of control she had built up.

One hand stroked her ass finding its way into her leggings and the other hand stayed glued to her neck as some sort of hint that she wasn't backing away from this soon.

Then he pulled away, breathing hard, his chest heaving heavily and she couldn't see shit because her body got overrode by need, by hunger, by longing.

This wasn't her.

She should have walked away.

Ran like those kids in summer camps.

His face was neutral.

Though saying neutral was a bit of a stretch, the Clay that was looking at her now searched her face like she was a siren.

A siren that bewitched him and sucked the life out of him.

His azure eyes were nowhere near their usual sky blue instead they were stormy.

Lidded with desire. Soaked in temptation. Filled with craving.

All of the three coursing through her very veins too.

He was grinding his teeth, she could tell. The way his jaw ticked, the way his brows arched.