Page 40 of Crowbar

“Don’t want all night. Want you now.” My voice came out rough, desperate.

“You’ve got me.” His fingers dug into my hips, pinning me in place. “But I’m gonna take my time with you. Gonna make sure you remember this.”

Before I could argue, he flipped us. My back hit the mattress, and Crowbar caging me in with his arms. The weight of him pressed me down, his thighs bracketing mine, and fuck, I loved it. Loved the way he took control, the way my body responded like it had been waiting for this exact thing.

He kissed his way down my jaw, teeth grazing my throat. A sharp nip at my pulse point made me gasp—I bit my lip to stifle it.

“You scared?” he murmured against my skin, his voice a low rumble.

“Of what?”

“Me. What I’m gonna do to you.”

I reached up, my fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw, the stubble rough under my touch.

“No,” I said. “You saved me. You’re not scary. You’re not gonna hurt me.”

A sound escaped him, something raw and hungry. His eyes locked onto mine, dark and intense. “Gonna make you feel good.”

“Already do.”

“Gonna make you come so hard you forget your own name.”

He sat back on his heels, his hands going to the button of my jeans. The denim parted, the zipper rasping as he dragged it down.

Cool air hit my skin as he peeled the fabric off my legs, taking my boxers with it. My cock sprang free, hard and aching, the tip already slick. Crowbar’s gaze dropped to it, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Fuck,” I breathed, my hips twitching. “Touch me.”

“Patience.” His voice was rough, strained. He wrapped a hand around my cock, giving it one slow stroke. Pleasure jolted through me, and I bucked into his grip, my breath hitching.

“More,” I demanded.

“Greedy.” But his hand moved faster, his thumb swiping over the head, spreading the wetness there. “Gonna make you beg for it.”

“Already begging.” My voice broke on the words, my body trembling with need.

My hips jerked without permission, and his low chuckle was a dark vibration in the room. “Sensitive.”

“You did that.”

“Good.”

Crowbar’s hand left my skin. He stood, shoving his jeans down his thighs. His cock stood thick and heavy, already wet at the tip. My mouth flooded with saliva.

“I want your dick in my mouth,” I said.

Crowbar went still. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sliding off the bed, I dropped to my knees on the hardwood floor. The position put me at eye level with his cock, and up close, it was even more intimidating than I remembered. Not that I cared.

I wrapped my good hand around his base, leaned in, and licked firmly from root to tip. The taste of salt and skin and him hit me, raw and unmistakable. His hand came to rest in my hair, fingers weaving through but not guiding.

“Fuck,” Crowbar exhaled.

I took his erection into my mouth, hollowing my cheeks as I sucked his cock deep. The groan that tore from him seemed to shake the walls. Encouraged, I took more, working my tongue along the thick vein underneath while my hand stroked what I couldn’t swallow.

His hips gave a slight thrust; his grip tightened almost imperceptibly. “Easy now. Don’t hurt yourself.”