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My cock loves the sound of that, stiffening against my zipper.
She leans up on an inhale, seeking my mouth, her fingers digging into my nape.
“No.” I quickly spin her to face the workbench and drag her hips back to meet mine.
Her neck turns, and her eyes find mine over her shoulder. Slitted eyes, twisted expression, a storm rages within her. She’s determined to maintain control even in the midst of surrender.
“I lead.” I bite her neck, growling against her soft flesh. “It’s the only way.”
The instinct to dominate dwells in every fiber of my being. It’s an inner knowing, a sense of clarity and conviction, as I pin her against the counter with my hips and flatten her hands on the surface.
I’ve never been allowed to do what comes naturally, to be the predator during sex, the aggressor.
Until now.
And this feels so incredibly right.
Thanks to her trespassing that night in the library, she knows some of my history. Not the worst of it. Not enough to truly understand. But she knows enough to make the connection between the helpless boy I was and the brutal man I’ve become.
The instant that dawns on her, her muscles slacken, her entire body submitting.
Excitement, adrenaline, the rush to freely touch her—I’m a slave to my instincts, my hands moving in time with my restless heart.
I draw patterns on her hips and rove lazy lines down her back, over her ass, then up again, taking the camisole with it, shifting it up, up, up, and off. Then I remove her underwear.
She’s mine.
Fuck the consequences.
35
Leonid
—
Bare skin.
White as winter hills and shimmering with mist.
I kiss the bumps and dips along her spine, pushing her hair aside to indulge myself in her neck, her feminine angles, her silky flesh.
Ravenous. I’m fucking shaking with ravenous need.
This is her fault. When she makes those sounds, when her symphony of pleasure and protest sings in my ears, it does things to me. The push and pull create a magnetic force. A clash of two souls searching for a connection.
I know what she’s doing. Allowing herself to be consumed by the moment while fiercely guarding any future moments I might demand.
Oh, Frankie, I will demand.
“This will not be a one-time thing.” I can’t think past the curves beneath my hands, the shivering slide of heat. Our hips meet and glide and move as one, miming sex as I massage my way to her taut stomach and lower, lower, to where I want her. “I won’t have you only once.”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to convince me.”
“Yeah?” A guttural chuckle. “Shall I convince you here?” I circle a palm over the hollow of her abdomen, slow and taunting.
“There? No. I’m not hungry.”
“We both know that’s a lie. But maybe…” I drag her up, sealing our bodies together with her back flush to my chest. “Maybe I’ll convince you here…”
I dip my head, my chin on her shoulder and my cheek against hers, as I…no…as we both watch my finger trace the upturned peaks of her tits. Heavier, denser than they look, they’re the perfect size for my palms.
“I’ll need more convincing,” she croons.
Vicious, beautiful creature.
Kissing the warm juncture of her neck, I catch a nipple between two fingers and give it a tug. A squeeze. A diabolical twist.
“More.” She drops her head back, arching into me as her voice goes utterly molten. “More convincing.”
Her mouth falls open on a sigh, and I can’t resist the urge to curl my finger between those plump lips. I make a sweep past her teeth, searching for her tongue. But she stops me with a gentle bite, closing her mouth around me and sucking, sucking… Mother of God, she sucks me in to the last knuckle, licking, flicking that sinful tongue until I feel it on my shaft, my balls.
I forget what I’m doing. I forget my name, my circumstances, my consequences. I forget everything but the sensation of her mouth, the pressure, the heat, the promise of that suction on another part of my body.
This is what it will feel like to have her latched onto my cock, taking me in, sheathing me, convincing me that one time will never be enough.
“Wicked female.” I pop that finger free and press it between her legs, directly over the most sensitive part of her.
She goes still as I circle that spot, soft and teasing, dampening the flimsy lace. Damp from my touch. Damp from her arousal. Warmth gushes from deep within her even as a chill sneaks into the workshop, tightening the tips of her breasts.
Leaning back into me, she forgets herself, grinds her ass against my rock-hard length, and pauses at the contact.
Tension grips her muscles, the struggle between surrender and self-preservation a constant undercurrent.
“I think…here.” I hook two fingers into the swath of fabric between her legs and yank it down while kissing the graceful slope of her shoulder. “Here is where I’ll convince you.”
