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“I’m going to stare at you,” Karson replied, his voice thick, deep, rich. “Then, I’m going to eat your pussy.”
My stomach dropped, my hands fisted at my sides, nails sinking into the flesh of my palms.
“Then I’ll fuck you,” Karson continued. “Right here on the floor.” He shrugged off his jacket casually, inch by inch as if he had all the time in the world, the gesture was somehow impossibly erotic. “First, I’m going to take my time staring at you, Wren. I’m not going to let you rush this, let you take charge. So you’re going to fucking stand there until I decide we’re ready.”
I pursed my aching lips together, tasting him there. Acid crawled up my throat. Not arousal this time, anger.
Despite my self-consciousness, I put my hands on my hips, tilting my head up to give the impression that I was totally fucking comfortable with my nakedness and not at all weakened by my arousal and his general overarching presence.
“This isn’t fifty fucking shades, buddy,” I snapped. “As much as you radiate the whole ‘Dom’ thing, I’m most definitely not a sub.”
Karson’s mouth turned up at my words as he worked the buttons on his shirt. I forced myself not to look at his exposed muscular chest and defined abs.
Okay, I looked a little.
Then my eyes darted back up.
Karson had caught the look and the way I’d unintentionally licked my lips while looking at his torso, if the glint of satisfaction in his eyes was anything to go by.
“Oh, I knew from the second I laid eyes on you that you were not a sub,” he said, his shoes thumping on the floor as he removed them. His shirt fluttered downward and joined them.
Again, I failed to keep his eyes as my gaze ran over his broad shoulders, down his sculpted arms, veins raised like smooth stone. There were scars peppering his arms, not many, but a noticeable few. I ached to touch them, feel the imperfections on his skin. Know the history behind them.
“And despite what you think, I’m not a Dom,” Karson added, pulling my attention back to his eyes. “I don’t gain anything from making a woman submit to me. I haven’t been interested in women for a long time.”
He was undoing his pants now. I swallowed thickly, willing myself not to look.
“Until I saw you,” he continued, his voice rough now. Hungry.
My hands started to shake, my skin turned to gooseflesh. My heart thundered in my chest.
“And I knew I wouldn’t sleep until I made you submit to me.”
His pants fell to the floor.
He wasn’t wearing any underwear. His cock was hard. It was fucking magnificent.
I licked my lips again.
His body flinched at my gesture, and a grin of my own stretched on my face. He was as much of a slave to his body, his desire, as I was. He was just better at hiding it.
“And you haven’t moved a fucking inch, which tells me that you want to submit to me too,” he finished, eyes flaring with satisfaction.
I gritted my teeth, fury battling my desire for control over my motor functions. I moved quickly, in two long strides, launching myself at him.
Karson was definitely strong enough to take my weight—I mean, look at those fucking arms—but I didn’t know the man, didn’t know I could trust him to catch me.
I did it anyway.
And he caught me.
My legs wrapped around his hips, both of us gasping as my wet pussy rubbed against his bare skin, his cock pressing against me.
I kissed him fiercely, with all of my anger, frustration and desire. He matched me, mouth moving against mine violently, hands pressing into my ass, grinding me against his body.
I pulled my head back, breaking the kiss, eyes finding his.
“I wouldn’t be so sure that I’ll be the one submitting once this is done,” I warned, my voice sounding wild and carnal. “You’ll be swearing fucking fealty to me, tattooing my name on your fucking chest before the night is out.”
