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"I like this rule."
He chuckles, leaning down to brush a kiss across my lips. I sigh, melting into the bed. My worries vanish as he licks into my mouth, his hand creeping higher. His pinky rests against the apex of my thigh, millimeters from my center. He leaves it right there, driving me crazy as he kisses me again and again.
The anticipation builds to a fever pitch inside me, making me sob against his lips. I need him to touch me so freaking bad it's ridiculous. Naturally, he doesn't cooperate. He simply kisses me as if we have all night.
When I think I'm going to explode in want, he breaks from my lips, kissing a lazy trail down my throat. I groan, tipping my head back to give him more room. Somehow, he's already discovered every sensitive place on my body. He seeks out each one, licking and biting until I'm sobbing again.
He still doesn't move his hand.
He avoids my breasts, following the deep V of the dress I bought on a whim, never expecting that I'd actually wear it. I'm glad I did since it got the reaction from him that it did.
"So sweet," he breathes against my skin.
If I'm sweet, he's sin. His tongue dips into my belly button. His teeth sink into my belly. I arch toward his mouth, groaning his name.
"So fucking sexy."
"Bronx, please," I plead. "Please, touch me."
"I am touching you."
"You're not."
"I've got my mouth all over you, beautiful."
"I need…" I sob in pleasure. I sob in pain. I hardly know. All I know is that his wicked mouth is wrecking me and it's not nearly enough.
"What do you need?"
"You!" I cry. "I need you to fuck me."
He moves like lightning. One minute, he's kissing my belly. The next, his hands are wrapped around the top of my dress. The sound of it ripping echoes around the room, sending a shockwave through me.
Before I can even gasp, his teeth clamp around my right nipple. He pinches my left nipple.
I shout as pleasure and pain stab into me, piercing deep.
He drags my nipple through his teeth, releasing it with a pop. "You want me to fuck you, Gemma?" His baby blues glitter with lust. God, he's so freaking sexy; he takes my lust away. "Then lay there and be a good little toy. I'll fuck you when I decide you're ready. Until then, I'm going to take my time and enjoy every fucking inch of this perfect body."
I sob his name, frustrated, turned on, mad as hell. He's so bossy. Part of me hates it. Far more of me loves it. No one evertalks to me the way he does. They treat me like a delicate little princess. Not Bronx. He treats me like his filthy little toy.
"You r-ripped my dress," I say, not willing to let that slide. No way.
I've always believed in God. But I see the devil in his eyes when he smirks at me now. He holds my gaze, not saying a word, and gathers the torn edges of my dress in his hands. With his eyes locked on mine, he oh so slowly finishes the job he started, ripping the remainder of the slinky fabric right in half.
Once he's done, he tugs the two pieces out from beneath me and holds them up so I can see them. "You mean this dress, Dilemma?"
"I'm so mad at you right now," I whisper, my heart pounding against my ribcage. My thighs soaked with my juices. My mind clouded with lust. I want to tackle him to the bed and have my way with him while I strangle him. That's not normal, is it? It can't be normal. And yet…here I lay. Ovaries exploding. Heart in his oversized hands. Mad as hell.
I am so not equipped for this war. I should have worn higher heels.
"I smell your cunt from here, Gemma. We both know it's fucking dripping right now," he says. "The only thing you're pissed about is the fact that you aren't pissed enough. Lift your arms."
I glare at him.
"Now, Dilemma."
I huff and then slowly lift my arms, making sure to smack him across the abdomen in the process. He grunts but doesn't call me out for it.
