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“Yes?” I ask, confusion mixing with arousal, creating a heady euphoria.
“Good enough for me,” he growls, crowding my space.
Long thick fingers wrap around the base of my neck, and I forget how to breathe. My sandals lose purchase as he uses his hold to force me backwards until I’m flush with the wall. There’s no gentleness in his movements, just unrestrained dominance. My heart stutters and I screw my eyes shut, expecting panic to descend. Expecting my body and mind to come together as one and revolt against his abrasive handling.
Only, it never happens.
“Open your eyes, bambi. I require your undivided attention,” he whispers, pulling gently on the ends of my curls. His voice is a dark caress, slipping beneath my defenses and catering to a part of me that rarely sees the light.
I peer up at him, tilting my head back as far as he’ll allow, and his nostrils flare, fingers flexing against my throat. “So goddamn sweet,” he mutters, looking pained by the thought.
He grinds his erection into me and holy motherfucking shit balls, his cock is a third leg. My pussy clenches, and I bite back against the moan forcing its way out. I lift my hand, wanting to feel the muscles hiding beneath his shirt but he catches my wrist, stopping me before I reach him.
“You will not touch me unless I tell you to, understand?”
Understand? No, I most definitely do not understand what the fuck is happening in here, and yet, I nod anyway, eager to find out.
“I need your words, bambi. Open that perfectly fuckable mouth of yours and tell me you understand.”
Holy hell! There go my bikini bottoms—eviscerated by a couple sentences.
“Yes,” I rasp. “But you will tell me to, right?” Jesus, I hope so.
He smirks at me, running the pad of his thumb over my pulse point. It’s a possessive gesture that has my traitorous pussy weeping for him. “Maybe, but I’m still not convinced you know how to follow rules. I guess you’ll have to prove to me that you can listen and take what I give you without question.”
Oh fuck. If that’s sexual innuendo for his cock, sign me up. I smile sweetly up at him and bat my lashes in an exaggerated motion. A feral snarl tears from his chest and he smashes his mouth to mine in a fevered kiss of dominance. There’s nothing sweet or gentle about the way he ravages my mouth. Every sweep of his tongue, bite of his teeth, is a claiming. A demand, underlined with the promise of untold pleasure.
It takes more effort than I thought possible to keep my hands to myself. I desperately want to reach up and run my fingers through his wavy midnight hair. Does it feel as soft as it looks? In the end, I resort to tucking them behind me and tilting my hips to pin them in place. It’s like they have a mind of their own. Even with that, I’m not ready to let go of the fraying threads of control I have left. I give as good as I get, nipping his bottom lip before sucking it into my mouth and soothing it with my tongue. He growls and slips his free hand into my hair, tugging sharply. My head jerks back and I gasp. A coppery tang coats my taste buds, and it takes my foggy brain a beat too long to realize what it is. Oh shit, I cut him.
Our panted breaths echo off the walls, singing an enchanting melody of our filthy desire. Releasing my neck, he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip, catching a few droplets of blood. Fire dances in his eyes as he lowers his hand and presses that same thumb past my lips and into my mouth. I swallow around him before drool can spill down my chin. With slow tentative movements, I circle the tip of his finger with my tongue and suck it in farther—relishing in the coppery tang.
Who the hell am I right now?
I’m not sure what he was expecting me to do, but I don’t think it was that. His hips buck forward and he grunts, pulling his finger out of my mouth. I give him that same innocent smile from earlier, and he runs a hand through his hair, gripping onto the back of his neck.
“Who are you?” His voice is nothing more than a raw whisper. His expression is a juxtaposition of pain and hunger.
I shrug, because I truly don’t know. I’ve always lived freely and loved hard. Wildness is embedded in my DNA, but the vixen standing before him, keening for his devout attention, is someone different altogether—and I haven’t decided if I like her or not.
Everything about this doe winds me up like a clockwork mechanism. From her filthy mouth to her wild disregard for rules. She’s the complete opposite of everything I crave—stability, control, submission. And yet, a word I rarely utter clangs around in my mind, setting off a ricochet of rapid thoughts I have no hope of wrangling in.
Breathtaking.
How has this woman burrowed so deep under my armor that only an hour after meeting her, I’m standing on the edge of oblivion with fraying control? Ready to throw my own terms out the window in favor of satiating the clawing need inside me. I’ve had contracts with hand-selected women for the better part of the last decade, and none of them compare to the pull I feel when in this doe’s vortex.
Fuck. When she bit my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, it took every fading ounce of self control to stop myself from pushing her to the ground and feeding her my cock. I swear that mouth of hers will be my undoing.
I slide my hand out of her hair and slowly drag my fingertips down her smooth, porcelain neck, encircling it, squeezing just enough to give the illusion of danger. She shudders. Her eyes flutter closed, and she sucks in her bottom lip. A smirk splits my face and I rub my thumb along her pulse point, reveling in the rapid thump of her accelerating heart.
If the doe likes to straddle the line of danger, who am I to deter her?
She pushes into my hold like the goddamn hellcat she is, and I lean forward, trailing my nose up the column of her neck. Lavender and citrus—my new favorite scents.
“You smell like sunshine, and taste like sin,” I whisper against her red puffy lips.
She makes a keening noise and I seal my mouth to hers, exploring every inch with languid ease. A feral need burns through me to take her now, but I’ll be damned if I rush any moment of this. My free hand lands on her hip and I guide her back against the wall, pushing my body flush with hers. Where she ends and I begin is a mystery even the universe can’t unravel.
I use my right foot to kick her feet apart and press my leg between them, lifting it just enough that my thigh hits her pussy. She’s so tiny compared to my six foot six size—I fucking love it. A breathy moan spills from her and she squirms, grinding her needy core back and forth, chasing her orgasm. I’m tempted to let it happen. I bet she makes the prettiest noises when she shatters, but I won’t. I can’t. If she’s going to come, it’s going to be on my fingers, my cock, my tongue. All of them or none of them.
