C7 Possessive

The brick wall was rough against Roberto Connolly's back as he leaned against it, trying to shake off the lingering feel of Kylie 's lips on his. The alley stunk of piss and rotting garbage, but right now, he welcomed the stench. Anything to clear his head of her perfume, of the soft sounds she'd made when he'd kissed her back.

Fuck.

He'd let her play him like a goddamn fiddle