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I’m not above changing the rules of the game either. Virgin or not, even with my lack of experience, what I really want to do is kiss him. I want to make the first move and throw all caution to the wind as we rock side to side underneath the star-filled sky. I want to feel his lips, his hands, and his body pressed to mine. I don’t understand how it can be possible to feel this way, but damn if I don’t want to savor the taste of this incredibly strong sexual attraction.
Before I can muster the courage to lean forward, Nick takes his turn, robbing me of that first move of the game. He grabs me by the back of my head and pulls my lips to his. Tunneling his hands into my hair, he drives the kiss even deeper. The kiss is passionate, intense, and filled with so much promise of what else this chemistry can create that I forget to breathe.
When he slides his hand to my shoulder then softly down my side until it rests on my hip, I tense, only to have Nick pull my body closer to his. Forgetting this is supposed to be a game played by my rules, I don’t push him away. Instead, I splay my fingers against his muscled chest, desperately wanting to remove the clothing blocking my access to his skin.
Without breaking the kiss, he picks me up, placing me over his lap so I’m straddling his hips. His hardness presses against my stomach, driving my need to a whole other level. Nick reaches for the hem of my shirt and begins to lift it up over my stomach, causing a warning bell to go off in the back of my head.
He’s the villain.
He’s the monster in the story.
He’s not my knight in shining armor.
I should be planning my escape.
This is crazy; I barely know this man. A sane woman does not make out with a madman who kidnaps her. Impulsive, reckless, and absolutely insane, is the only way to describe what is happening.
Nick kisses my neck and whispers in my ear, “You’re wet.”
Is he talking about my clothing, or knows what’s happening between my legs?
I struggle to find my voice. I sure didn’t expect this when I was practically thrown into the boat. I expected some yelling, perhaps some name calling, but not this. I really have no idea if I want him to stop or continue.
Not able to articulate what I want verbally, I reach between us to the button of his pants, tugging to release the contents. Sliding my hand between the fabric and the flat plane of his abdomen, slipping my fingers into his briefs, I can feel the hair of his groin beneath my fingertips. Before I can explore what lay nestled in those curls, he grabs my wrist.
“You’ve been bad.” He palms my breast with his free hand and runs his thumb across my nipple, “Very bad,” he growls.
I look into his eyes, taken aback by the ferocity I see there. He evidently wants exactly what I do. His hold is like iron… unbreakable, keeping my hand trapped, my knuckles brushing against a rod of steel I swear is throbbing against my fingers.
Giving him what I hope is a sexy smile, I am about to suggest we go further when—
“There are consequences for tonight. And what we’re doing here is a reward. Not a punishment,” he says, every word enunciated with a firmness that seems to snap in the small confines of the leather seat. “Time to go inside.” He pushes away just enough to tell me that our time of passion is over.
What the hell! Is he serious? I’m practically holding his penis… his hard penis, and this is how he reacts?
He can’t tell me this while I keep my clothes on? My shirt is nearly off of me, my tits are practically falling out of the demi-cup bra I am wearing, and my nipples are as hard as pebbles. He doesn’t even glance down or break eye contact. No, instead, he’s chosen to treat me like some slut he picked up on a darkened street corner. He’s chosen to stomp on my dignity. It’s not just me that wants more, and yet, he’s making me feel that way.
Furious, I yank my hand out of his pants, climb off his lap, and move as far away from Nick as I can. As quickly as my fingers can manage, I pull my shirt down. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
Nick’s smile makes me want to slap him. “Are you ready to pay for your crime?”
“Funny that you’re saying I committed a crime.” I say, jumping out of the boat. “Go to hell.” I storm off toward the mansion. What had I been thinking? Asshole isn’t a strong enough word for this man.
