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The door slammed shut behind us as he didn’t stop. He stalked inside the suite, to the bedroom, and ducked, throwing me on the bed
“Brett!” I sailed in the air before landing, then bouncing on the bed.
What was going on?
I needed to catch my bearings for a moment, but in that slight pause, his hand wrapped around my ankle.
I held still. What was he going to do?
I met his gaze as he was half arched over me, his beast trying to control himself.
I went still, a part of me knowing that in that moment, he was a predator. I wasn’t scared in the way where I worried he would hurt me, but I was his prey. I knew it. He knew it. I was his to do with, to play with, to command, to give pleasure to, to become drenched with need, to fill with his release.
I was his.
But he was also mine.
I was breathing so hard, my chest rising and lowering at a fast rate. And because of that, I rasped out, in a clipped tone, “What is this?”
His eyes snapped.
That’d been the wrong thing to say.
52
BILLIE
“What is this?”
He repeated my question, almost hissing. Then suddenly, he pulled on my foot, dragging me to the edge of the bed. His gaze bore into mine as his hand slid up the inside of my leg, all the way to the top of my leggings. He slipped underneath my jersey, and his gaze flickered down there for a second.
He drifted closer to me, pulling me closer to him at the same time where I was only a few inches from the end. My leg was still propped up on the end of the bed, he leaned down, draping his arm around my knee, holding me anchored there for him.
His eyes went back to mine, and I was pierced all over again. The storm in his gaze was moving around, twisting. He was not happy, but as if following my train of thought, he ground against me. He would’ve been in me if our clothes were gone.
I bit down on my lip, holding back a moan.
“You feel that?” He’d started rolling my leggings down at the top, but he paused, his one hand sliding down my leg, wrapping it around his waist, plastering my cunt against his dick, and he rocked into me.
I sucked in some air. That felt so good.
“I’ve been hard for you ever since you sent me that little text yesterday.”
He kept rolling his hips so a whole new cloud of pleasure was taking me over, so it took a little bit before his words penetrated.
Wait.
My text?
I opened my eyes—when had I closed them?—he was glaring back down at me, his face right over mine.
My text…
Oh, dear God.
My text.
I gulped. “Brett—” I tried to sit up, but he took my hands, both of them, and pinned me in place, lying down on me. My hands were pinned beside me, and he began grinding into me, going slow, going purposeful, going at a rate that was tortuous.
