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It doesn’t take long.
“Do it,” he snarls, fire snapping in his eyes.
He’s bossy and impatient. Greedy.
I slip my hand between my legs, parting my folds. I’m so wet it’s ridiculous. A loud moan tumbles from my lips as my finger circles my clit. I’ve barely even touched myself and I’m already on the verge of an orgasm. It’s never happened this fast before. I know that’s because of him. Because he’s here. Because he touched me. Because God help me, I love the thought of this man watching me. How many times have I thought about it? Slipped my hand into my panties and imagined him watching me from the shadows? Too many to count.
I don’t know why, but I tell him this.
“I’ve thought about this,” I whisper, spreading my legs wider. “About you watching me.” My thumb rolls over my clit, my back arching from the ottoman. “I’d touch myself at night and pretend you were in my room watching me.”
“Did you cry out for me, princess?” he asks, his gaze locked on my pussy.
“Yes.”
“Did you say my name when you came?”
“Yes,” I moan.
“Did you pretend it was my hand working between your legs, Raven? That it was me touching your perfect little cunt?” he asks.
“Yes,” I sob. “Every night, I pretended it was you. I wanted it to be you!”
He snaps like a guitar string pulled too tightly. A loud roar leaves his lips and then he’s on me. The ottoman scoots across the hardwood floor as he lands between my legs, his mouth against my pussy. He yanks me toward him, pulling my hand out of his way at the same time. I lose the ability to function then.
He eats me like a man pushed too far, one taunted with treats and then told they aren’t for him. No one tells Rhys no. He takes what he wants, drinking me down his throat and then coming back for more. Again and again.
I cry out his name as the orgasm rips through me so fast it knocks the breath out of me. An explosion detonates in my core and sets off a landslide in my veins. I melt into nothing and rise from the ashes reformed from pure pleasure. It’s too much. Way too much.
“No,” he growls when I try to wiggle out from beneath him. He grabs my hands in one of his, easily containing me. “I want one more, Raven. Give it to me.” He doesn’t even stop what he’s doing. He just issues his command between licks, growling it against my pussy.
“I…I…” I try to tell him that I can’t, except I quickly discover I can. I am. The second orgasm builds faster than the first, hotter and more intense. It’s going to wreck me. I already know it is. And yet I want it anyway.
He buries his face deeper, working his tongue into my opening. I sob his name as he fucks me with it, thrusting it as deep as he can get it. His filthy sounds fill the living room in a hedonistic, carnal song of gluttony. Mine sings in harmony.
I break wide open for him, convulsing as my orgasm splits me asunder. It flings me around like a buoy in the water just outside the windows, leaving me limp and gasping for breath. He pulls back covered in my juices. They practically drip down his chest.
He doesn’t bother taking his pants off. I don’t think he can. He rips through the button and zipper in record time, breathing like he just ran a race. His eyes never leave my body. Mine never leave him. Not even as aftershocks wrack my body.
I squeeze my legs together when he pulls his cock out. He’s so big. My God. He’s going to split me in two. Pre-cum drips from the tip as he wraps a hand around his shaft and squeezes, working himself roughly. Everything about him is rough. Big. Mean. And yet he treats me like I’m precious. No one speaks to me the way he does, says the things he says to me, or looks at me the way he does, as if he finds me worthy of the highest regard. As if I alone touch the heart of him and soften his sharp edges.
“Are you on birth control?” he asks.
I shake my head, a seed of doubt sprouting in my stomach. If he stops now, it’ll break me.
“Good,” he grunts, satisfaction in his eyes. They run over me, hot and wild. “I don’t have condoms, songbird. Haven’t been with a woman in years so I haven’t needed them.” He licks his lips, stepping closer. “Wouldn’t wear one with you even if I had one.”
My heart leaps into my throat, that little seed of doubt dying as quickly as it bloomed.
He plants one knee on the ottoman between my thighs and then scoops me up, scooting me backward. “I should take you to my bed for this, but fuck if I can wait that long,” he mutters, his mouth against my ear. “I need in you now, songbird.”
“Then get in me, Rhys,” I plead, wrapping my arms around his neck. I hook one leg around his hip, locking my body to his. He could take me on the floor, and I wouldn’t complain. When I remember this moment, I’m not going to be disappointed about where it happened. All I care about is that it’s him. It’s us.
“Lay back.”
I reluctantly release my hold on him, falling back against the ottoman. He yanks my ass up into his lap, sliding one hand around my hip. His erection falls against my center, hot and hard. God, he’s so damn hard. His other hand slides up my abdomen, between my breasts, and then around my throat. He squeezes gently, heat in his eyes as he tilts my head forward.
“Watch,” he orders. “I want you to see the minute I take what’s mine, princess.”
