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“I asked you a question. What are you doing?”
His tone took control of her mind, while his hands took control of her body. “I…I thought you wanted me. And…I’m offering…”
“Do you want me?”
He wasn’t asking for a verbal response. He slid his hand under the sweatshirt. She bit her lip on a groan as he grazed her mound, his fingers playing over her clit before shockingly sliding them two knuckles deep inside her wetness. No man had ever touched her with that kind of sure knowledge and sexual skill.
“Yes,” he rumbled. “I can feel you do. But that’s not up to you, is it?”
Her gaze snapped up to his. With her eyes adjusting, she could detect the set of his face, that firm and soft mouth. Her body shuddered over his thick fingers. Since his knee held her leg down, she was aware of his strength, how easily he could overpower her. She heard expectation in his voice, waiting for her answer, as if he was testing something.
She felt a little ashamed and a lot aroused. When he asked her a question like that, answering him the strange way she wished seemed to be her only choice.
But she licked her lips, shying away from it. She would avoid it, play dumb. “I…I should have asked if you were okay with it. Consent and all. Not molested you in your sleep.”
It sounded foolish, with his fingers inside her and his unflagging erection against her thigh. As she spoke in a breathy voice, he grew harder and thicker. Her sex convulsed around his fingers. His other hand was now near her face, fingers sliding along her jaw and throat. A throat still sore from crying, but all she could think about was how it would feel if screams from a climax made it worse. She could handle that kind of pain. Wanted it.
With the way her body liquefied under his command, she thought the reality would be well beyond her expectations. A reminder of what he’d told her that day in his truck, which made her body throb even more.
“Consent is important,” he agreed. He added another finger, stretching her and making her grab for his biceps.
“Oh…that’s a little…uncomfortable.”
“Yeah. I assumed it would be. But does it hurt?”
She shook her head. He was being very gentle. And relentless.
“My dick is bigger than that,” he said conversationally. “When you take it, I want you ready and knowing what to expect.”
What was against her thigh verified he wasn’t bragging. “But that’s not going to happen right now,” he continued. “You’re going to tell me the truth. Why isn’t it up to you?”
“Because it’s up to you. When…when you…”
“When I fuck you is up to me. You also know why that is. We’ll talk about it later. Along with a lot of other things. Go back to sleep. It’s just past four o’clock. We’ll get up at seven.”
She wisely didn’t scoff at the likelihood of her being able to return to sleep. His fingers slid from her, pulling another moan from her lips. He brushed her wetness over them as she inhaled her aroused scent. She quaked with need, feeling the burn of his gaze in the murky gloom.
“Wait here.”
He slid from the bed and headed for the bathroom. She heard a drawer open, the rush of water from the sink. The bathroom had a green safety light which allowed her to see his profile. A big man, seemingly calm and focused on what he was doing. The shadows and shorts cloaked his erection, but she could imagine it.
She wanted to put her hand between her legs to press against that need, stroke herself to a small, intense orgasm while looking at him. But he was back before she could try to sneak it in.
He put something on the nightstand, and slid into the bed, settling on his back. Curving an arm under her, he guided her to lie between his legs, her head on his chest, her stomach pressed against his rigid cock. With her thighs split over one of his legs, her sex was pressed against firm muscle. She had to make a conscious effort not to rub, though the difficulty sent a shudder through her.
He reached toward the nightstand. She heard something dipped in water, then his fingers were on her hair, smoothing and straightening it before he started using a dampened brush to rewet and comb it. When his hand followed the stroke, he tightened his grip on the strands, a little pull against her scalp. Her heart stuttered.
“Count my heart beats and sleep, doc,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. It’s all crazy and messed up in you now. I’m not going to let you fly apart and go down the wrong path.”
She stiffened, her pride hurt, as well as something deeper. “You’re saying me wanting you is wrong? After you’ve told me that’s exactly what you want?”
He pressed a hand to her shoulder blades, keeping her in place. “Not what I’m saying at all. Shut up and count the heart beats.”
His voice was mild, but all those emotions and needs rebelled. She shoved away, sitting up in the bed. She stared holes at him, wishing she could read his face better in the shadows. “Fuck you. Who says you’re in charge?”
“You do. Every time you react to me.” He sighed. “I told myself I wasn’t going to go this way until we can have the right conversation about it, but sometimes you just go with your gut on this shit.”
He moved way too fast for a big man. She yelped and scrambled back, but he already had her by the waist. In a blink, he had her turned over his lap, a second before the brush landed against the lower curve of her ass. He’d exposed the bare cheeks by holding the roomy sweatshirt against her lower back. The blow stung, but it shocked more. She tried to struggle, but he had his elbow and forearm against her back, holding her immobile.
