“Oh, fuck it,” I whisper, gripping the back of his neck, bringing his lips back to mine. The kiss is bruising. Cyan doesn’t hold back as he kisses and bites and licks me. My hands fumble for his shirt, pulling it over his head.

He moves away slightly, eyes searching mine, tracing down the path the rouge tear made. “Are you sure?” he asks quietly.

My fingers run across his broad chest, tracing over the scars hidden beneath tattoos. “Yes.” The word comes out far too breathy, and then his lips are back on mine, moving over my mouth, running over my jaw and up to my ear.

A guttural growl rumbles in his throat. “These tiny buttons,” Cyan hisses, his hands slowly working on them and their somehow even tinier holes.

“Do you think they’ll mind if you just rip it off?” I pant, kissing the tattoos that adorn his skin.

“I’m sure I can find a way to make it up to them,” he growls. The fabric tears, and a wave of pleasure pulses straight to my centre. My head falls slightly as Cyan’s ravenous eyes take in my bare chest. “Fucking Fates,” he curses as he keeps ripping the dress, dropping to his knees and kissing the bare skin that is slowly revealed until the fabric is in two parts on either side of me. “Get on the fucking table,” he growls, looking up at me.

I wiggle my ass up onto the table, my thighs clenched with anticipation, the cool air caressing my nipples.

Cyan doesn’t move. “Spread your legs.” I do as he says, slowly dragging them out, exposing myself. “Fucking Fates.”