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I let out a hiss as my sensitive flesh rubbed against his hard cock.
“Countess, I’ve got a feeling that you’ve spent your life doing the ‘sensible thing,’” he murmured.
I struggled to maintain a coherent thought, my body yearning for him despite all the sex we’d had in the past twelve hours.
“I may or may not have,” I told him, deciding not to dive into the intricacies about whether staying with an abusive husband could be defined as ‘sensible.’ “But walking into this club was the least sensible thing I’ve done in my entire existence.”
Swiss’s fingers pressed into my hips. “No, baby, walking into this bedroom was the least sensible thing you’ve done in your life,” he countered. “And I’m fuckin’ thankful for that. I’m not here to make sure you do what’s most sensible.”
He continued to grind me against him, my breath becoming shallower and shallower.
“In fact,” he murmured. “My job is to make sure you don’t do anything sensible like leave.”
He lifted me up so he could lower me onto him. So he could plunge into me.
My body accommodated his length… just barely. It was as if he were made for me. Or I was made for him. Pleasure shot through me to my fingertips.
Swiss’s hands landed back on my hips to hold me stationary. I tried to fight against him, needing movement and friction, but he was much too strong for that.
“My job,” Swiss ground out, his voice thick with pleasure. “Is to keep you here, with me.”
His hands stopped restraining me and helped move me in the way I needed.
My breath quickened as I rocked in rhythm with him, my body coiling up in preparation for release.
“Fair warnin’, Countess,” Swiss grunted. “I’m going to do everything in my considerable power to ensure that you stay here. With me.”
His words sank into my skin, wrapping me up in him. In us.
My skin heated up, my very insides starting to turn to flames.
One of Swiss’s hands stayed at my hip while the other went to the back of my neck to pull me down, closer to him.
The grip bordered on painful, and my body responded to that pain with immediate pleasure, my climax hurtling toward me.
“Tell me,” he demanded, voice hoarse.
My breathing was too rapid to get any words out.
“Tell me,” he growled, tightening his grip. “Tell me that you’re not going to leave me, Kate.”
My blood thrummed, sang for him. “I’m not going to leave you,” I vowed.
And that’s what it felt like. A vow.
One I surely couldn’t keep. But one I made nonetheless.
