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I sat up straight. “I think I deserve to be part of the conversation is all. I don’t think you get to make all the decisions. That’s not how I wish to be treated by the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”
He bowed his head. “Touché, sweetling.”
“I wasn’t trying to spar with you.”
“I know,” he said.
“Couldn’t we… we haven’t even kissed.”
“If I touch you like that, I will entirely lose control.”
“I think I might want to see you lose control,” I said. I might need it, in fact. I might have been put on this earth for the precise purpose of unraveling this man. “Do you ever get to lose control?”
He looked up at me with an expression on his face that I could only describe as destroyed, as if I’d reached into the center of him and taken him apart.
Suddenly, he was out of his chair and in front of me, tugging me to my feet. He pulled me into his arms, flush against his body, and I felt his heart beating all the way through his clothes and my clothes as he pressed me tightly against his chest.
His hand tangled itself into my hair and the other one dug into my hip, nudging me into him, where I felt him—very hard, pulsing.
An ache went through me, pleasant but overwhelming. I wanted him badly.
He kissed me, our tongues tangling desperately. His mouth was wet and warm and intense, and it sent shock waves thundering through my entire body.
My nipples tightened into hard points and I felt a gush between my thighs—an embarrassing amount of liquid. I’d heard of slick, I supposed, but I didn’t know it would be like that.
He gasped, his mouth moving away from mine, kissing its way down my cheek and my jaw to my neck. He took a tiny bit of my skin between his teeth.
I moaned, liking it.
He put my hand to him, to the hard part of him, to his pulsing cock, just through his clothes, and I wrapped my fingers around him, stroking him there.
He cupped me between my thighs, the warmth of his palm emanating into me through my pants. I was soaked there, though, so wet. It should have been embarrassing—it was embarrassing, but it felt so good that I didn’t quite care.
I rocked into his palm and stroked his cock and his teeth were digging into my skin—not breaking it, not too hard, but insistent, a claiming nonetheless.
I started to climb a ladder of pleasure, rungs and rungs of it, going up above clouds into a brightness of sunshine. Each rock of my hips against him took me one notch closer, one notch brighter, and it felt amazing. It was brighter and brighter and brighter, and then too bright to see, blindingly bright, and then I climaxed in a shower of sunbeams, collapsing into his chest.
And he stopped my hand on his cock, and I felt a telltale seep of wetness and he was twitching against me, and I knew he’d just come too.
Oh.
His teeth released on my neck and he began to lathe the spot with his tongue, making a rattling noise in his throat that I liked. He was purring, I realized. I had heard of it, but I hadn’t known what it would be, how much I would enjoy it.
He grunted. “Fuck.” He licked my neck. “I could have… you know, I could have actually bitten you.”
I snuggled into him. “Yes, please,” I said again.
He let out a defeated breath. “You’re… you can’t just… fuck, Eleri.”
I was giggling for some reason. And I realized why it was all right between us. He could order me around, but I controlled him also, in my way. It was a balance.
His tongue on my neck was mesmerizing.
I sighed, rubbing my face into his shirt.
He stroked the back of my head, purring again.
This was good, perfect, really, but I wasn’t… I felt as if that orgasm I’d just had hadn’t really satisfied me, as if it had only stoked a fire within me and that I only wanted to be claimed, really claimed, even worse than I’d wanted it before.
