The Taking

“Don’t, Vanquish.” He sat up to untuck my arms and flatten them to my sides. Hungrily taking in the sight of my breasts.

“Call me, Van. Everyone else does.” His eyes roved the shape of my breasts and the color and shape of my small nipples which hardened under his gaze. Feeling like he was touching me already.

I memorized a knothole on the wall instead of responding to him. Knowing that between my thighs was already dampening with my heat. Making me slick for him.

And knowing he could smell it.

His telltale sniff in the air and then the yellowing of his eyes as they fell back on me told me that he’d just caught the whiff.

Damn my female scent.

He studied my face before tilting his head and softly querying. “Why do you always look away from me?”

I gave him a pained expression. “Because you’re usually hurting me or trying to make me miserable.”

***