Page 78 of Have To Be Mine

“Fuck no.”

He peeled my swimsuit down, taking his time, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin. By the time he’d worked it off completely, I was trembling.

He kissed his way back up my body. I pulled him up to meet my mouth. I could feel how much he wanted me. His very hard cock pressed against my hip. I had been rubbing and touching the damn thing for the last couple of days. I wanted him. I reached between us and wrapped my hand around him. He groaned into the kiss, his hips pressing forward involuntarily.

“God, Krista, you have no idea how good that feels.”

“Steel,” I whispered against his lips. “It feels like steel.”

I stroked him slowly, reveling in the feel of his velvety skin. He dropped his forehead to mine, breathing hard through his nose, his eyes squeezed shut. I liked having that power over him. I liked watching the careful control he usually wore so effortlessly come completely undone.

His mouth moved to my throat, then my collarbone, then lower. He took his time with me in a way that made me want to scream. How did he have the patience? And control? He’d been edged for days and now he was returning the favor. I didn’t think I had the same control.

His tongue traced a slow circle around my nipple. I arched into him, fingers threading into his hair, holding him there with my body writhing under him. He moved to the other nipple, sucking and nibbling until my thighs were pressing together with a restless, aching need.

“Please,” I breathed.

He lifted his head just enough to look at me. His eyes were dark, his hair mussed from my hands. He looked wrecked in the best possible way.

“Please what?” His voice was rough.

“You know what.”

The corner of his mouth curved. He kissed down my stomach, unhurried, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it. When his mouth finally found me I made a sound I didn’t recognize as my own voice. My back bowed off the mattress. His hands pressed down gently on my hips, holding me in place, keeping me exactly where he wanted me.

He seemed like he was “learning” me. That was the only way to describe it. He paid attention to every sharp intake of breath, every involuntary roll of my hips, every time my fingers tightened in his hair. He seemed to file it away and use it against me with devastating patience. I was trembling and incoherent, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other gripping his shoulder.

When I finally came apart it rolled through me in long waves that crested and crashed and then crested again. He worked me through every second of it and didn’t stop until I was pulling at his shoulders, dragging him back up to me.

He rolled away from me and I nearly lost my shit. “What are you doing!”

“Settle down, tiger.” He pulled open a drawer on the nightstand and picked up a box of condoms.

“You thought of everything,” I said.

He was already tearing one open. I watched with my mouth hanging open as he rolled it down what was a very impressive cock. My body shuddered in anticipation of that thing being inside me. I watched him handle himself and nearly exploded again.

He climbed back on the bed, his hands on either side of my head as he stared into my eyes. “I feel like I need to give a little warning.”

“Warning?” I murmured.

“You’ve had me on edge for days. Don’t judge if I can’t last. But trust me when I say one time will not be enough.”

I grinned. “For the love of God, will you please stop talking?”

He pushed into me slowly, inch by glorious inch. I gasped, my fingers digging into his back. He stilled, giving me a moment, his jaw tight with the effort of holding himself there.

“Okay?” he managed.

“More than okay,” I said.

He moved slowly at first, deep and deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine. I felt every movement all the way through me. I turned my face into his neck and bit down lightly and felt him shudder, his rhythm faltering for just a moment before he managed to get even deeper. I moaned against his skin.

I dragged my nails down his back. He sucked in a sharp breath, his hips snapping forward in a way that made me cry out. He groaned and started moving faster. He found an angle that made my toes curl and my breath come in short, broken gasps. Once he found it he stayed there, relentless, watching my face with an intensity that should have felt like too much but instead felt like everything. The man had stamina. He never faltered. Thrust after thrust that moved my body several inches across the bed.

“Dammit,” he growled.

“What’s wrong?”