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He moved back up to my face then returned his fingers against my clit. He rubbed the nub in a circular motion, hitting it with the right pressure and the right speed like he’d done it a million times.
It felt good.
And I hated that. I hated the way my knees naturally parted to accommodate him. I hated the fact I wanted him to suck my nipples again. I hated the fact his kiss felt so incredible.
He looked into my eyes and watched my expression, his face darkening with sexual need. His fingers worked me aggressively, firing off arousal to the rest of my body.
“Stop.”
Two fingers moved to my entrance while his thumb stayed behind.
“No.” I locked my knees so he couldn’t get inside me. I didn’t want him to feel. I didn’t want him to know what lay between my legs.
He jerked my knees open with his thigh then inserted two fingers.
No.
The instant he was inside me, he froze in place. He felt the moisture that accumulated there. He felt just how wet I was—how soaked I was.
Shame slammed through me in waves, and I was mortified. My body betrayed me, and I was embarrassed by how easily it gave me away. I was wetter than I’d been in a long time. My body woke up from its hibernation, and it was desperate for relief.
Crow wore a victorious expression. His arrogance increased tenfold. His fingers moved inside me while his thumb massaged my clitoris. He curved his fingers so he could hit the sensitive tissue, eliciting waves of pleasure that made my tits harden further. “You’re soaked.”
“From my dream...” I fumbled for an explanation, not wanting him to assume he was responsible for what happened.
“You were dreaming about me.” He said it with pure conviction, like there was no possibility for an alternative answer. “You said my name.”
Goddammit.
He continued to slide his fingers in and out, working my clitoris at the same time. He pressed harder and moved faster, making my body betray me even more by pushing me toward an orgasm.
I didn’t think I could even have one.
He slowly pulled his fingers out then inserted them into his mouth. He sucked my juice off before he grabbed the base of his cock and pointed at my entrance. “No need for you to suck me off when you’re this wet.” He pressed his head against my entrance.
My arousal died when I realized what was about to happen. Maybe I was attracted to him and maybe he did turn me on, but I still didn’t want to be raped. I still didn’t want to be a prisoner. I wanted my life back. “No, stop. Please.”
He pushed his head inside slightly, stretching me apart.
“Stop. Please. I’ll do anything.” Tears fell from my eyes in waves. I hated crying because it was weak, but I didn’t know what else to do. I was tired of being used over and over again. I was tired of not having a voice. I was tired of everything. “Crow, please.”
The sound of his name broke through the sexual fog in his mind. He heard my plea and looked into my face, the head of his dick still partially inside me. The fight raged on behind his eyes. He wanted to keep going because his dick wanted to get wet, but my tears meant something to him.
“Please...” I pulled my hands away from their hold, relieved I had the freedom to move. I pressed them against his chest and ran my palms up and down, feeling the hard muscles of his body. I was coaxing him into cooperating, appealing to his good nature. He wasn’t evil like his brother. He had some good in him. “Don’t do this to me.”
The fog lifted completely, and he pulled his cock away from my entrance.
Gratitude washed over me in waves. I’d never been so grateful for anything in my life. I had some control over my destiny. I had some control over what happened to me. My pussy got wet for him, as embarrassing as that was, but he still didn’t do it. He could justify it by saying I wanted it, but he didn’t.
He moved off of me and sat at the edge of the bed. His sweat pants and boxers were on the ground, and he scooped them into his hands. His defined back was chiseled, obvious even in the limited light of the bedroom.
I shouldn’t feel anything good for this man, but I did. I didn’t see him in the same way I saw the others. He may be rough around the edges, but he was honorable underneath all of that callousness.
I moved to his side of the bed and cupped his face. His five o’clock shadow rubbed against my fingertips as I felt him. I loved the feel of his stern jaw. It was rigid and strong, directly counteracting the soft beauty of his eyes.
