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Buying this penthouse was a careful decision, but from the way Oliver had behaved when I had reluctantly brought it up, I’d been surprised he was so eager to get rid of it. Lucas had helped make the paperwork run through the mills more quickly. By the end of the week, the deed would be transferred into my name.
The lease on my old apartment had been up for renewal in a month or so, and the idea of buying this place had almost been an inspiration.
“Well…” I glance toward a significant room. “I made some drastic changes to the bedroom.”
Oliver blinks, but follows me.
Drastic was an understatement.
Whoever had decorated the place before had classy taste. But that wasn’t me. I had sold the overly done dressing table, the furniture that had been a part of the design, and then bought handmade items from trusted stores that weren’t overly expensive but made me feel like I was home.
“You changed the bed,” Oliver says, his tone strange as he runs his fingers over the woodwork.
“Canopy beds aren’t my thing,” I reply.
Oliver glances over, his eyes dark. “Have you broken it in yet?”
When I catch the double meaning in his words, my breath stutters.
I swallow, not willing to be outdone, so I close the door behind me, then say innocently, “A little hard to do it by myself.”
The full-blown lust radiating from him has me stepping backward. He prowls toward me, a predator having scented his prey.
I don’t realize I’m walking backward until my back comes into contact with the door.
He’s almost upon me, a satisfied gleam in his eyes, then he’s crowding me against the wooden frame, his hands on either side of my head, my hands listlessly down by my sides.
He leans in, his warm breath on my lips, and my face tilts upward. But he doesn’t kiss me just yet. His lips brush against mine before moving to my cheek, my jaw, then he sucks my lower lip, biting down on the soft flesh, making me hiss.
And then he’s kissing me, our lips parted, as he licks into my mouth, seizing control. I’m helpless under the assault. And it’s over as soon as it begun because he wants more than my lips. His mouth is on my throat, his tongue leaving a wet trail over my jaw, my collarbones, on any bit of exposed skin within access.
I’m panting, his mouth so hot against my skin that it’s getting harder to find my breath, my brain cells scrambling.
He reaches for my coat jacket, then he’s tugging it off, dropping it at our feet. My shirt is a button-up blouse. Oliver takes his time with it, undoing the first few buttons before using his mouth on the plump tops of my breasts, biting and leaving marks that will remain there for at least a few days.
I whimper at his ministrations, reaching for his shirt. But he simply takes my hands and presses them against the door beside my head, effectively making me a prisoner.
The lack of control, this feeling of being so powerless, is too much. I moan as I feel the slickness between my thighs. When I rub them together, he notices. “Something wrong, Lana?”
His tone is arrogant, his smile knowing, and I bite my lip, feeling defiance surge.
But I’m trapped against the door, and he’s in charge. He presses his lips against my cheek, biting my lobe and whispering, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your pussy needs some attention.”
I give him a sardonic look, my chest heaving at the way he’s playing with my body. “Do you plan to talk me into an orgasm?”
I immediately regret my words because now he appears intrigued. “Maybe I could.”
Gaping, I internally groan when he smirks, his decision clearly made. “Let’s see whether I can make you come without using my cock.”
His accent is like my personal brand of aphrodisiac. Momentarily, I close my eyes only to find myself released, the loss of his hands suddenly making me a feel a deep sense of bereavement.
“What?” I open my eyes, only to see him stepping away from me. “What are you doing?”
Oliver moves to the bed and sits, watching me with a smile on his lips that is both threatening and incredibly enticing. “Come here.”
I hesitate, pride wanting me to hold my ground, not wanting to be led around by a leash, yet my feet move toward him of their own accord until I’m parked before him.
He seems entirely too pleased by my obedience.
