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"Is that so?" Gunnar's voice was deceptively calm, betraying none of the storm I saw brewing in his eyes.
"Yes," I breathed out, the single word carrying the weight of years of obsession.
A slow, wicked smile spread across his lips, one that spoke volumes about his confidence. His ownership of me.
"Then let's make sure you get exactly what you've been craving." His whisper set my blood ablaze with need. He leaned in and repeated the words he'd spoken to me when I was 19 and he was 27. "Do you want to taste me, beautiful?"
I met his eyes, my breath shaking, my words bolder than I would have expected. "I want all of you."
The moment hung in the air, charged and heavy, before Gunnar collapsed the distance between us. His mouth crashed against mine, fierce and demanding, and I was lost to the whirlwind of sensation, the feel of his lips, his teeth, his tongue. My bodyresponded instinctively, pressing into his hard muscles, craving more. His hands made quick work of my clothes.
"Gunnar—" I gasped between kisses.
"Shh," he soothed, even as he slid my shirt down my arms and tossed it aside, baring me to the cool room. Naked flesh met the chill of the garage, and I shivered from the thrill of vulnerability.
"We could get caught," I whispered against his lips. I squeezed closer, hot at the thought of someone walking in.
"Does that turn you on, little slut?" His rough growl vibrated through me. "The thought of getting in trouble? Of someone seeing you ride my dick like you were made for that and that alone?"
"Yes," I breathed, the truth slipping from me, as dangerous and exciting as the act itself. The possibility of being seen only added fuel to the fire Gunnar stoked within me. "Why? I don't understand."
"Don't be embarrassed. Your kinks are perfect." His skilled hands roamed over my exposed skin, each touch sending sparks of desire straight to my core. I shifted and collided with the cold metal of the workbench, the hard surface grounding me to the present—a contrast to the smoldering man who seemed determined to make me forget.
"Get down on your knees," he commanded, and I obeyed without hesitation, the cool concrete biting into my knees as I landed too hard.
Yes, Sir.I wasn't quite ready to say those words. Wasn't sure if they were the right ones. But they echoed in my mind, anyway.
"Show me what you want," he said. And I was somehow outside myself, someone different for him. I was cautious by design, careful with every decision I made in life, except when it came to Gunnar. He unraveled me, made me reckless.
My hands trembled as they reached for him, fumbling with the buckle of his belt. It was like I was two people—the driven perfectionist, and the desperate woman aching for the touch of the man above her. I wanted to be taken, claimed, owned.
"Good girl," he praised, and those words, filthy and sweet, were all the encouragement I needed. I glanced up at him, meeting his piercing blue gaze, and saw there the reflection of my own raw need. His jeans strained against the bulge of his erection, a promise wrapped in denim. I leaned forward, pressing a hungry kiss through the rough fabric, tasting the heat of him, inhaling the musky scent of man. My fingers fumbled with the button, anticipation coiling tight within me.
I was careful, reverent, as I slid the zipper down to free him, pressing the thick fabric of his jeans out of the way. He was nude underneath, and his hard cock sprung free, slapping lewdly across my cheek. I wondered if he ever wore underwear.
"Go ahead, Mira," he ordered, his voice a dark caress that turned my body into molten heat. "Show me what you've been dreaming about."
"Oh," I gasped. My mouth watered, my mind filled with illicit fantasies. My need was intense, driven by a long-running obsession with this man's body. I wanted to worship it, to spend hours making certain he knew exactly how I felt about his thick, gorgeous cock.
I wet my lips and kissed the velvety tip, savoring the salty taste of pre-cum, before swirling my tongue along the ridge of his head. Every lick, every suck, was an affirmation of my need, my hands cradling the weight of him, the heat of his flesh branding my palms.
"Just like that," Gunnar urged, his hand threading through my hair, guiding me with gentle insistence. "You're such a good girl."
I glanced up to catch the icy blaze in his eyes. "Do you want my mouth? Or do you want to pick which hole you get to violate? What was it you said? Good girls will give their men any hole they like?"
His response was immediate, a primal sound as he lifted me effortlessly onto the workbench. My legs fell open for him and his mouth found the wetness between my thighs, his tongue delving deep, while his fingers traced a daring path down my crack to the place I knew he'd want to fuck.
"Please," I whimpered, my hips bucking against his face, desperate for more.
"Tell me what you're asking for, sweet thing."
"Fuck my ass?" I choked out, half plea, half challenge.
"Would you like that?" His breath was hot on my slick folds as he backed off just enough to speak. "Would you like me to claim you the way I promised the other day?"
The loud click of the lube bottle snapping open echoed off the garage walls, a sinful promise in the stillness. Gunnar's gaze never left mine as he coated his fingers with the viscous fluid.
"I want to fill you everywhere," he rumbled, his voice vibrating through my core as he shoved his finger into me, circling it, preparing me. It was easier this time, the pleasure more enticing. "But first, this will be mine and only mine. Understood?"
