She blinked fast.
Too fast.
Like she was holding back tears or filth or both.
“And I meant every f*****g word,” I snarled. “You’d bleed, Lyra. You’d scream. You’d claw at my chest like you’re drowning. I’d split that tiny hole open so wide you’d feel me for days.
Her arms dropped.
She wasn’t breathing right.
Her chest rose in quick, desperate pants. Her n*****s brushed mine through the fabric, and fuck..they were hard. Angry. Aching.
She didn’t know what to do with her hands. They twitched at her sides, fingers curling like she was fighting the need to touch herself.
Like if I gave her thirty more seconds, she’d beg me to bend her over the porch and f**k her with my fingers until she collapsed.
“Get inside, Lyra,” I hissed, my teeth clenched so tight the words came out sharp and
