Chapter 39 I loathe him, my body wants him

Chapter 39 I loathe him, my body wants him

Nyx's p.o.v

“Whose car is this?” I said amid gritted teeth. I could have ignored it but I'd rather push my pride aside than have the police tailing us.

“ Mine.”

“Didn't know you have one.”

“I just got it,”

I nodded pressing my lips together. Silence settled back in the car. Bianca's word got to me: He has a blood kink.

“What got you all riled up?”

“Why are you being an unwanted chauffeur?”

Chuckle vibrated through his chest, amusement splayed across his face, his eyes locked on the road.

“Question for question huh?”

I shrugged.

“You were in danger yesterday, we need safety precautions.” His voice grew an edge to it. While something in me snapped.

“I was not in danger, the men were tailing me, they didn't harm me.” I spat, folding my hand across my chest. My breast popped up.

His eyes dropped to it and then he looked away, I heard him suck in a breath. I was sure affected by how his blue eyes darken and his hand tightened around the steering wheel.

“We still don't know why they are tailing you, so we need to be careful.” He finally said.

“Who the fuck is we,” I snapped. He's nothing but a manipulator.

“Me and you and your family if they want.” He answered casually.

“Look, there's nothing like ‘we’. Secondly, I don't need you to drive me to work. Thirdly, my family is also your family so stop staring at my tits like a pervert.”

“What's the first point?” He asked. I scoffed in disbelief. That's what he has to ask. Regardless.

“There's absolutely no case of a ‘we’.”

“Your third?” He still asked,his expression calm, but his hand on the steering was betraying him.

“We are family. Related, You are my uncle, I'm your niece. You get that now?”

He brought the car to a stop, no warning, no slowly down, just the brake. I was almost slammed on the surface of the car if not for the seat belt secured firmly around me.

He turned and his hand wrapped around my throat, not tight but it was there. My skin tingled beneath his hold. “Listen to me,” his thumb reached for my lips, hovering over it. “We ain't blood related. They are your family, not mine. His eyes soften as they take me in. Spending more time on my breast.

My breathing picked up. Heck I'm literally panting, his thumb pressed savagely on my lips as if requesting to gain entry. I almost opened my mouth to grant him that but he withdrew it. His hand is still on my neck.

He bent his head down without another word.

The sudden heat of his mouth closed over the thin fabric of my blouse, right where my nipple had already pebbled traitorously against the cotton. He didn’t bother pulling the material aside he simply sucked the peak through it, hard and greedy, like a man starved.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

The wet heat, the rough drag of his tongue even through the barrier, sent a bolt of pleasure straight between my thighs.

He latched on like a hungry puppy, pulling, rolling the sensitive bud with slow, deliberate swipes of his tongue until the fabric grew damp and clung obscenely to my skin.

I bit down on my lower lip so hard I tasted copper.

A moan clawed its way up my throat anyway I trapped it behind clenched teeth, but my body betrayed me. My back arched off the seat, pressing my breast deeper into his mouth.

My fingers curled into the leather beneath me instead of shoving him away. I should push him. I should slap him. I should scream that this was wrong, disgusting, forbidden.

But God help me, the sweet, aching pull of his mouth felt too good.

He switched to the other nipple without warning, giving it the same ruthless attention sucking until the fabric was soaked through, until every nerve ending screamed.

My thighs squeezed together instinctively, trying to ease the growing throb between them. Shame burned in my chest even as liquid heat pooled low in my belly.

And then just as abruptly as he’d started he ripped his mouth away.

Cool air hit the wet patches on my blouse and I shivered violently. My nipples stood painfully stiff, dark and visible through the damp material like accusations.
He lifted his head slowly.

Those blue eyes were almost black now, pupils blown wide, lids heavy with lust. His lips were swollen and glistening. He looked like sin personified.

“I don’t need to stare at your tits like a pervert,” he said, voice low and gravel-rough. His thumb brushed over the wet spot he’d left behind, circling the aching peak once, twice. “They’re mine to feast on anytime I want.”

The words landed like a slap and a caress at the same time.

I bit my lip harder hard enough that fresh sting bloomed across the already abused skin. Anger, humiliation, and something far darker twisted together in my gut.

I hated him.

I hated how easily he unraveled me.

I hated how my body still hummed, how my pulse thundered between my legs, how part of me small, treacherous, disgusting was disappointed he’d stopped.

He watched me like he could see every filthy thought flashing behind my eyes. The corner of his mouth curved, not quite a smile more like a predator who knew the prey was already bleeding.

“How many girls have you said that to.” I finally pulled myself together.

He frowned. “Huh?”

“How many fucking girls have you said that to?”

His eyes widened.

“Little cat,” he brought his knuckles to my cheek and I pulled away. “It's that jealousy I see in your eyes?”

I glared daggers at him

“You are not the first woman I've been with.” The words stung. “But you are definitely the first one I've claimed.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Just like you claimed my virginity blood with your tongue, right?”

His eyes darken but this time not with lust. “What are you on about?”

“You suck every woman's blood and try to make me feel special.”

“Who told you that?”

I arched my brow.

“Bianca.” Realization settling in. “I should have known better when I overheard you both talking.”

“Typical. Men. The same fucking thing no matter the age.”

He grabbed my mouth and pressed it, fingers firm against my lips, forcing them to part just enough that I felt the heat of his breath crash against mine. He leaned in until our mouths were a ghost-touch apart, close enough that every word vibrated straight into my skin.

“There’s only ever been one woman I’ve claimed,” he said, voice so low it scraped like gravel over silk. “And that’s you.”
His thumb dragged once across the center of my bottom lip, slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing the shape of it.

“Sure I love to see blood while fucking but not with you. Never with you. Only if you offer it”

The confession hit like ice water and fire at the same time. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I was sure he could feel it where his palm still rested against my jaw.

“So ball up whatever shit Bianca told you,” he continued, eyes locked on mine, unblinking, “and dump it in the refuse.”
Then he puckered his lips and pressed them to mine.

Not a real kiss not the kind that begged or asked.

It was a brand.

Possessive.

Short.

Final.

I tried to jerk free from his grip; my hands flew up to shove at his chest. He didn’t budge. He simply pulled back first, just far enough that I could breathe again, but not far enough that I could forget the shape of his mouth on mine.

“I would have fucked that attitude and those swear words right out of you,” he murmured, voice rougher now, edged with something dangerous and hungry, “if I didn’t know you’re already running late to an event… and that sick boss of yours will put his hands on you before I finish him off today.”

My ears perked up. I sat up straighter, the sudden shift in topic yanking me out of the haze his kiss had left behind.

“How did you know I’m going for an event?”

He released me completely then hands falling away like he was giving me permission to exist outside his hold for a moment. The absence of him felt colder
than the AC blasting over my damp blouse.

“Because I’m going for one myself.”

“What do you mean?” I sat up.

“I'm attending an art exhibition. How fun.”