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Without warning, his head bends, lips colliding with mine in a rough, passionate kiss. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I’m swept away by him. His lips, his tongue, claim me with savagery. If he’s holding anything back, I can’t tell what it might be, because he’s coming at me with the full force of his will, pinning me down.
With his lips still connected to mine, he presses me roughly up against the wall, grasping my wrists in his hands. He brings them up above my head, cinching them together and securing them in the large, tight grip of one hand, pressed high against the wall. I can’t catch my breath. I’m trapped, completely at his mercy, and a flush of arousal boils inside of me.
Without tearing his eyes from mine, he uses his free hand to find the hem of my baby tee and roughly pushes beneath the fabric. His skin is hot against mine, sending a shiver of awareness down my spine. That rough hand skims the soft skin of my stomach to firmly palm my bare breast. His deep-blue eyes darken but never leave mine and his breath is coming fast. He’s as turned on as I am.
My throat is tight and I can’t swallow, and now he’s running his thumb over my bare nipple. I shriek, almost coming right then and there. He brings his face in close, lips just millimeters from mine. He turns his head, smells my neck and sucks on my skin at the base, sending fire crackling in my veins. Then he pinches my nipple between his two fingers and the exquisite pain is more than I can take. With a groan, I squeeze my eyes shut, biting my lower lip to keep from crying out again.
“You like that, Madeline?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My entire body is lit up from the inside. I’m on fire, rubbing against him, my body shamelessly begging for more as he rolls the tip of my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging it over and over again. I open my eyes, and I find myself trapped again by his hard, hungry gaze.
With a low growl, he gropes for the edge of my T-shirt again, and yanks it up, over my head, pushing it into his other hand, which still holds my suspended wrists. Cold air rushes over my skin, and the tiled wall at my back feels like ice.
His head lowers, his hot mouth finding my nipple with unwavering intent. He sucks me, hard. I feel the pull of my nipple into his mouth all over my body—in the prickling in my scalp, the loopy rhythm of my heartbeat, the ache in my core, the throbbing of my clit.
Without the use of my hands, all I can do is arch into him, pressing my breast more firmly against his mouth. My jaw drops and all breath escapes me, all thought escapes me. All there is, all I can feel are his hands on me, his mouth on my nipple, licking and sucking it—grazing it with his teeth. I whimper like a child, shivering against him. His free hand is now at the small of my back pressing me to him, and I willingly go, abandoning thought and reason and that small warning at the back of my head that tells me, This man is danger.
I’m panting now. I have no control over my own breathing, the wordless sounds of animal pleasure escaping my lips. I want him to bite me, I want more pain, but I can’t seem to find the words to tell him.
His head moves to my other breast, fastening over it with powerful suction. The nipple he has just left wet and hard feels ice-cold hitting the cool bathroom air. His grip around my wrists tightens as if he can’t control his own excitement. And my hands start to go numb. Without breaking from the attention to my nipple, his large, calloused hand slides over my ribs until he reaches the waistband of my jeans. Flicking the button open and making quick work of the fly, he growls and dips his large hand inside my panties.
Slowly his fingers prod toward my entrance, gliding over my swollen clit, and I jump, electrified. His head pulls away from my breast without letting up on the suction, pulling it with him roughly as he jerks away. I can see his face now, inches from my own, his own breathing hoarse and labored. A muscle ticks in his jaw, as though he’s trying to hold himself back. I can feel the tension in his arms.
“Christ, you are so wet,” he groans. “I want to push my cock inside you and fuck you hard against this wall right now.”
And God, I could almost tear off my own jeans and let him do just that. I really want to. I feel the large bulge of his cock pressed against my side and I can think of nothing else but what it would feel like to have him anchored and moving inside me. As if echoing my thoughts, his finger pushes into me, probing my channel, murmuring about how tight and good I feel. He presses deeper, and my eyes close again, my head falling slack to the side.
The sweet, icy ache between my thighs is building, spreading through my entire body. Any second, I’m going to shatter.
“Tell me, right now, that you are coming to dinner with me tonight.”
I…what?
His finger pushes deeper into me, his thumb brushing across my clit in a slow circular motion. I try to hold back my moan, but it’s useless. I have no control over what’s coming out of my mouth or any thought beyond the sheer, hypnotic pleasure of his hands and mouth on my body. I let out a low, tormented moan that echos off the white tile walls.
Fuck, he’s good at this. Too good.
His tone grows more insistent. “Say it, Madeline. Say yes, you will.”
His finger continues to move inside me, hard, deep thrusts, taking me to the very edge. My hips grind against his hand, searching for release. I’m so close to coming, I can fucking taste it.
And his hand slows, ever so slightly, as if sensing my oncoming crisis and wanting to prolong it. As if proving to me that he is the one in control—that I won’t come until he allows it.
“Yes. God, yes, whatever you want,” I gasp, breathless. “Please make me come.”
The second the words leave my mouth, he pulls out of me. To my utter humiliation, I actually whimper a little. I was close. So damn close, and the fucking bastard knew it and pulled away! Who does that?
A man who always gets his way no matter what, that’s who. I stare at him, wide-eyed, wishing I could knee him in the balls when he releases my wrists and steps just out of my reach. His lips curve into a wicked smile.
“Excellent. I’ll be at your place at eight. You will be ready for me.”
And before I can say a word, he’s gone.
Chapter 11
I Don’t Bite...
“No.” Sam scrunches her nose and shakes her head. “It makes your hips look too wide.”
