Page 88 of Big D!ck Energy

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. His eyes were black in the dim interior, fixed on me.

“That's why,” he growled, a cocky gleam in his eyes as he brushed his finger over my swollen bottom lip. “That's the only answer you get. You don't need dating advice. You need me, and I am done pretending otherwise.”

“Dallas…”

“No.” His voice was a low growl. “You asked me to remind you that you belong to me? Consider this your fucking reminder.”

His mouth found mine again. He licked into my mouth, making my toes curl, one hand sliding from my face to cup the back of my head, holding me exactly where he wanted me. His other hand dropped to my waist, fingers splaying over the silky fabric of my dress.

I was melting, every coherent thought dissolving under the relentless heat of his mouth. My hands fisted in his hair, ruining it completely, and he made a sound of approval against my lips.

When he broke the kiss this time, he trailed his mouth down the column of my throat. His teeth grazed my pulse point, and a sharp jolt of pure desire shot straight to my core.

“All those cameras,” he murmured against my skin, his breath hot. “All those people watching you, wanting you. Thinking they could have you.” He bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me cry out. “They can't. You're mine. Every part of you. This mouth.” He kissed me again, deep and wet. “This neck.” He licked the spot he'd bitten. “Every single fucking inch.”

His hand, resting on my hip, began to move. It slid up, over my ribs, leaving a trail of fire in its path. Then it slipped around to the front, his fingers finding the tie of my wrap dress. With a single, sharp tug, the dress fell open.

Cool air from the limo's vents hit my skin, followed immediately by the searing heat of his palm as he cupped me through the lace of my bra. My back arched, pushing into his touch.

“See?” he whispered, his finger brushing over my nipple until it tightened into a hard, aching point. “You're already mine. Your body knows it. It answers to me.”

He kissed me, swallowing my whimper, as his hand abandoned my breast and began a slow descent. Over my stomach, my hip, the outside of my thigh. He pushed the folds of my dress aside, bunching the fabric around my waist. His touch was everywhere and nowhere, maddening in its indirectness.

“Dallas, please,” I heard myself beg, the words torn from some primal part of me.

“Please what?” He nipped at my earlobe. “Tell me.”

“Touch me.”

“Where?” His fingers danced along the inside of my thigh, so close to where I needed him, yet impossibly far. “You have to be specific. I want to hear you say it.”

I was trembling, every nerve ending screaming. “Between my legs. Please.”

A low, satisfied rumble echoed in his chest. “Since you asked so nicely.”

His hand finally, finally slid upward. The backs of his fingers brushed against the damp lace of my panties, and I jerked against him, a broken sound escaping my throat.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice thick with lust. “You're soaked. For me. All for me.”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband and dragged my panties down, just enough. Then his palm settled over me, not moving, just radiating heat. The sheer size of his hand, the weight of it, the ownership in the gesture, it made my head spin.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

I forced my eyes open, meeting his heated gaze.

His middle finger slid through my slick flesh, gathering wetness, tracing my entrance without pressing in. He circled my clit with a slow tease that had me grinding helplessly against his hand.

“So responsive,” he muttered, watching my face. “So perfect. This sweet pussy was made for me. Say it.”

“Dallas…”

“Say it.”

“It's yours,” I gasped as he increased the pressure, his circles becoming tighter, more focused. “It's all yours.”

“Damn right it is.”

He chose that moment to push one thick finger inside me. I cried out, my inner muscles clenching around him instantly. He was still watching my face, his own a mask of fierce concentration and desire.