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I closed the door behind me. “Why was he here?”
She straightened her shoulders and narrowed her eyes. “Why areyouhere?”
So that was how it was going to be? The thought of her challenging me again made my cock jump.
I took a step toward her. “Did you fuck him?”
Her chest moved faster as her breath quickened. A pink heat crept up her neck and onto her cheeks. “What I do with Brady is none of your business.”
I took another step. “Maybe not. But what you do withmypussy is my business.”
Her nipples peaked against the thin chiffon fabric of her dress.
Checkmate, baby.
Another step and I’d made my way across the foyer and into the living room where the staircase was. I was only a few feet away from her now. “Did you fuck him?” I repeated.
“No.” Her voice was barely higher than a whisper.
“Prove it.” I took another step.
Her eyes grew wide. “What?”
“I said, prove it.” Another step. Now we were inches apart. I was close enough to see the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her delicate throat, close enough to hear her stuttered breath. Her nipples taunted me, begged me to put my mouth on them. “Take off your pretty little panties. Spread your thighs. And prove you didn’t just give another man what belongs to me.”
She swallowed hard then clenched her teeth. “Fuck you. Nothing about me belongs to you.” Her voice burned with conviction.
There was my little troublemaker. Always testing me.
I grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look up at me. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear.” I let my hand glide down her throat, inside the V of her dress, to palm her breast. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back when I rolled her nipple between my fingers. I slid my other hand around her hip, lifted her dress, and grabbed a handful of her ass, making her whimper when I gave it a hard squeeze.
With my mouth on the shell of her ear, I whispered, “You. Are. Mine.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but I lifted her up, carrying her to the living room then flopping her on the couch. She tried clamping her thighs together and crossing her legs.Not so fast, sweetheart.I wrenched her knees apart, positioning myself between her legs, then reached beneath her ass and ripped her panties off. They landed on the floor beside the couch. She fought to scoot up and away from me as my hands slid along the sides of her body, inching up her dress and exposing her sweet, perfect, fucking pussy. I loved that fight. I lived for it. She loved it too, because she was soaking fucking wet.
My fingers dug into her flesh, keeping her in place.
Her hands flew to my head, tangling in my hair the moment I positioned my face between her thighs. “What are you doing?”
I glanced up right as she licked her lips. “Making sure you don’t taste like him.” I leaned in, dragging my tongue in a long, lazy trail right up her dripping wet center. Fuck me. She was ambrosia, nectar of the gods, and I wanted to feast on her forever.
She yanked on my hair in a weak attempt to pull me away, but her thighs clenched on either side of my head, and a moan escaped her lips. A paradox if I’d ever seen one.
“Caspian, stop.”
No fucking way. No fucking how.
I gripped her inner thighs and spread her folds open with my thumbs. Her fingers tightened in my hair, trying to push me away, but her hips lifted off the white couch cushion beneath her, begging me for more. Her body was at war with her mind, and I was about to plant my fucking flag on the battlefield.
I ran the tip of my nose along her slit. “Making sure you don’t smell like him.”
She didn’t. She smelled like pineapple and white wine with a hint of musk. Like salvation and sin.
“I said stop.” Her hands left my hair to press against my shoulders.
I looked up. My gaze drifted over the bare pussy in front of me, to her stomach, then to her breasts as they heaved with every breath she took. My eyes narrowed when they met hers.
“Say it like you mean it, and I’ll think about it,” I said with a smirk, then brought my lips together and blew on her clit while I held her stare. A soundless whistle against her slick flesh.
