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He shut his eyes, snuggling back into the pillow, a satisfied smile stealing over his features. “Best way to wake up ever.”
Oh. That was… that made my stomach do a little flip. I liked him. I liked him liking me. I liked him not being able to resist me and having to have me so badly that he couldn’t hold back from doing it. I liked him with his face between my thighs, tongue going at me like I was something delicious. I liked him being mine, like he said he was.
Obviously, it was bullshit.
He couldn’t help it. He was riding some mating instinct thing and he wanted me because I was there, and it didn’t mean anything.
It had been this way all along.
Hadn’t I said it to him, that my attraction was genuine and his was forced?
So, in the end, which of us was being raped, him or me?
He seemed pretty concerned about forcing himself on me, but I… he was being forced by his biology. At least I wasn’t forcing him. I mean, I wasn’t necessarily trying to stop it, but Icouldn’t. He was stronger than me and Ihadto let him.
I mean… didn’t I?
Was I trying very hard to stop him?
He cupped one of my breasts, possessive, gentle. He opened his eyes, still smiling that shit-eating grin, like he’d won a prize or something.
I felt melty.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice deep and sleep-ravaged.
I kissed him.
He rolled on top of me to deepen the kiss.
We kissed and kissed and his cock got hard.
He winced. “Sorry about that?”
“No, it’s okay,” I said. “Maybe if we just, um, tend to you there it’ll help you stay in control?”
“Uh…” He ran his nose down my neck, down, down, down, between the cleft of my breasts.
I writhed, basking, throwing my arms over my head. “Do you want me?”
“You know I do,” he rasped.
“I’m yours,” I murmured.
He groaned. He took one of my nipples between his lips. He teased it there, making it hard, making little shocks of pleasure shoot through my body, and then he licked the tip of it. He pulled back to survey his handiwork.
I sighed, pressing my pelvis up into his, rolling my hips into his hardness.
He kissed my very stiff nipple. “Let’s just go on the record here that you’re, uh, you’re not mine. You don’t belong to anyone except yourself—”
“Stop,” I grunted.
“Let’s just go on the record that I know this is wrong.” He sucked my sensitive flesh into his mouth.
I writhed, sighing at the sensation that flooded me. It felt so good. “Maybe so,” I managed. “Maybe it’s wrong.”
He lifted his face and looked at me.
“Can we pretend it’s not?” I said. “We can’t stop, so, let’s just… pretend.”
