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“Pretty much whatever I want unless you safeword, just like you agreed to last night.” He licked her again, and when she tried to wriggle away, he caught her wrists, threading each one under her bent knees, holding her thighs apart with his broad shoulders. She struggled, loving the feeling of being stuck. “You’re n
ot going anywhere until I say so, Arabella.”
It was hard to believe she used to hate him calling her that. Now it sounded like both an endearment and a threat coming from his mouth. No one called her that anymore except him.
He was patient—too patient—tracing his tongue gently over her labia, dipping between then going back to teasing. Every time he was almost at her clit, he would skip over it and away again. She went from fighting his hold on her to digging her heels into the mattress and trying to force his mouth and tongue to go where she wanted. Unfortunately, he was stronger and faster and kept her pinned exactly how he wanted her.
Teasing, teasing.
Her body tense and alert and begging with every shift of her muscles. His gaze had gone from sleepy to wicked, as though he enjoyed the show every time he paused and just held her down to watch her struggle.
Every glancing lick of her clit hood, feathery light, made her squeal and then hold her breath in anticipation for the next. She tried to hide her responses, but he was too good, far too attuned to her, learning her in ways that promised to haunt her later. By the time he let her go it felt like hours had passed. She was panting and sweaty, and tears of frustration leaked from the corners of her eyes.
At no point had he allowed her to come, only to screech and beg. By the time his tongue drifted lower, stroking over her perineum, she knew damn well where he was headed next even though her entire body was wound tight with a bitter, brutal need. The bastard had absolutely no intention of letting her come. Her clit felt huge and swollen, and her lower abdomen was painfully cramped in what she considered the girl version of blue balls.
He ignored her mewling and begging, batting away her clinging hands as he got up off the bed. His dick tented his shorts enthusiastically, but his expression was calm.
“Please, fuck me,” she begged, pressing the heel of her hand against her clit. A shudder of pleasure ran through her body. Close—she was so close. But her hand wasn’t what she wanted . . . not when she could have Grant and his beautiful dick. Not when she’d dreamed half the night of him forcing his way into her, his huge cock bare, nothing between them. It had been so long since she’d had that intimacy with someone she found herself craving it, even though she hadn’t realized it was missing from her life until the subject had come up the night before.
Rather than respond to her words, Grant closed one of his big hands in her short hair and dragged her, crawling, to the edge of the bed, then urged her to the floor. Her already hot body flared out of control, molten and liquid in response to his rough, impersonal handling and the pain.
“Open your mouth.”
“No!” That wasn’t what she wanted! “Please, you can do anything you want to me, just please let me come!”
“I know I can do anything I want to you. We negotiated that last night, remember? You have very few limits for a woman who claims to know me.” One corner of his mouth tilted in a lazy smile that made her want to smack him across his beautiful face. “Now kneel pretty for me and open your little mouth.”
Groaning, she knelt properly, spreading her knees as far apart as they would go, straightening her spine and opening her mouth even though she was glaring. He stood above her gazing down imperiously, and she couldn’t help the way it made her squirm. He pushed his boxers down just far enough to bare his dick, then ran his hand over his length before wrapping his hard-on tight in his fist. The head of his cock was too far away for her to lick, and for some reason that frustrated her more. Waiting passively for him to fill her mouth wasn’t what she wanted, and it was actually contrary to her nature. When she tried to move, to get closer and take a more active role, he grabbed her hair and used it to keep her away.
“Did I say suck, or did I say open your fucking mouth?”
She clamped her mouth shut. Grant chuckled and pressed his thumb against her chin. Like magic, her mouth popped open, completely against her will.
Her own involuntary sound of distress made her shudder.
Wetness trickled between her thighs. Noo . . . was she making a puddle on the floor? It had been a long time since anyone had denied her something she really wanted, and the fact that he could control her and wasn’t interested in giving her what she wanted was refreshingly frustrating.
He jerked his big cock with his fist, keeping her teeth apart with his thumb and forefinger. His breathing was becoming ragged, his hips bucking sometimes as though the sight of her on her knees with her mouth pried open was almost too much for him to handle.
“Whatever you don’t swallow,” he rasped, “you’re either going to lick off the floor or wear for the rest of the day.”
She tried to bite his fingers, but his grip was stronger than her teeth.
“You’d better open wide or I’m going to come all over your pretty face. I hear getting come in the eye is a real bitch.”
When she tried to jerk her head away, he hooked his fingers hard in her mouth, and for a moment she felt like the muskie on the lodge’s welcome sign.
The rhythm of his hand faltered, and his hips gave one last buck, then come spurted, scalding her tongue, her lips, one cheek, her mouth again. He growled in satisfaction, as though the sight of his come on her was the most satisfying sight in the world. With unnecessary roughness, he grabbed her jaw and forced it closed, his gaze harder than his still rampant erection.
“Swallow it,” he commanded, his low voice lower than usual, gravelly and fierce.
She obeyed, not willing to pay the price he would exact for noncompliance. She could tell he wasn’t in the mood to put up with her shit, no matter how fucking adorable it would be to spit a mouthful of come back in his face. She liked being a bad girl, but there were times where it was cute and funny, and times where her ass didn’t want to suffer the consequences of her actions.
“Oh, fuck. Good girl,” he purred, cupping the side of her face in his hand and using his thumb to rub the stray come on her cheek into her skin.
He picked her up off the floor as if she was a toy he’d dropped, and put her on her hands and knees on the bed. When she tried to scramble away, he smacked her ass so hard she could feel the outline of his hand throbbing and burning. He positioned her facedown, ass up, angling her sideways on the mattress.
“You need to stay just like this while I brush my teeth and take a piss. If you move you’re not going to like what happens. No touching yourself.”
