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“No.”
“I’m scared.”
His hand slipped into my halter top, fondling my breast, exploring the soft curve and the aching point of my nipple.
“I know.” A mouth caught mine with no warning. Just as abruptly, only air kissed my lips.
“Patrick, it’s so dark.” I clung to his waist, squeezing the hard blocks of muscle.
“Yes, it is.” He sucked on my neck until my head swam. A hard, hard erection pressed my stomach through layers of clothes. “But you’re not alone, right? And let’s check if you’re cold…” A hand worked into my pants, then my panties. I moaned with need as big fingers teased my soaked lips. “No, not cold at all. What a hot, wet little pussy this is.”
“Damn you,” I growled. “Stop playing games.”
“What, you can’t handle it? You need me to turn the lights on? If it’s so dark and scary, then say your word. You know how to stop this.”
I bucked my hips. My hands dared to slip under his sweater and skate over his chest. Straining to look, seeing nothing in the pure blackness, I felt like I was falling.
“Shut up. I can handle it.”
“So be a big girl for me and get used to the dark.”
My legs shook. I couldn’t see Patrick’s face; I had nothing to go on except his fingers on my pussy and his chest under my hands. He sounded so collected, but his heart beat under my palm and it wasn’t anywhere close to calm.
“Let’s talk about games,” he whispered. “Since you brought them up. In here, we play them. Outside this room, we don’t. Why’d you try to make me jealous?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” I growled.
His fingers dipped into pure heat. My pussy hugged the invasion, my arousal beyond obvious in the dark. “You’re a brat.”
I squirmed, caught between his stone body and the wall. Pulling my hand from under his sweater, I pawed at the unforgiving blackness until I found his cheek, trying to orient myself. He made a low sound when I touched his face.
“And you’re not wearing a bra. Just a flimsy little top that shows every last detail of your tits.”
He squeezed the yielding flesh, pinched the nipple, and a gasp leapt from me.
“Why are you playing games with me?” I hissed.
“To get at the truth. It's harder to pretend in the dark. Maybe that's why you run away from it.” He nibbled on my neck, his fingers twisting inside me. “You’re so wet, baby. Your pussy doesn’t lie.”
His breath became more rapid, his fingers rougher. My clit pulsed under his pressure as he flicked it and flicked it.
“What are you so afraid of?” His voice was seductive, beckoning, inviting. “Be in the dark with me.”
“Fuck you,” I muttered.
Suddenly he broke contact and lifted me, walking with deliberate steps in the darkness. I hung on tight to his neck until something soft stopped us — his bed. I was lowered, set down, relieved to feel Patrick’s mattress under my back. His hands moved over my body, sure and swift, untying my halter top and stripping the light fabric away. I made a grab when those hands left my skin, but I couldn’t locate him.
Palms closed over my breasts. Heat pierced the rush of pleasure — my nipple, captured in his mouth. He sucked hard on the tight bud. My head went light.
“What are you doing to me,” I gasped. He pulled back, leaving my nipple wet and throbbing.
I heard the brush of a sweater being shed, the faint thud of jeans falling on the floor, and the clink of a belt buckle against a hard piece of furniture. Skin nudged my arm. A huge hand fit between my thighs, toying with my wet folds.
“You really are perfect, Christina. You’re everything I hoped for and more.”
When his fingers slipped inside me, I bit the closest part of him — his shoulder.I was tight with nerves, desperately aroused. The mint scent of his breath, the sharpness of his teeth on my earlobe made me clench up.
“Fuck, yes,” he growled. “I love you tight like this.”
