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I was drunk on him. Addicted. Desperate in fact.
His grip on my neck tightened, a dark dominant possessiveness seeping into his kiss. I could feel my core softening, my panties growing damp with desire.
Walker feasted on me like I was his favorite thing, his hot tongue licking into me like he couldn’t get enough. I sucked on his tongue and he groaned, like it was the best thing he’d ever experienced.
I was light-headed, destroyed…over just a kiss.
What was going to happen when he actually got inside me?
Walker lifted me into his arms, and I wrapped my arms and legs around him as we continued to kiss, each step towards hisbed rubbing his huge, hard length on that perfect spot between my legs.
“I’m not going to be good at this,” I told him, an edge of panic slipping through the lust because everything he was doing was so perfect.
The opposite of everything about me.
He laid me on the bed, and I immediately missed his warmth.
I’d always thought I’d hate a lover who was dominant. I’d imagined myself marrying some paper pusher, who said yes to me on everything and let me make all the decisions.
After years of not making any decisions, that seemed like the only thing I could stand.
But as he handled me like I was his own personal doll, like he owned me…
I wasn’t sure I could ever go back.
Just more confirmation there was something broken inside me.
He sat me down on the bed and stared at my face with glittering, gleaming, lust-fueled eyes.
“Take the jersey off,” he murmured in a thick, rough voice. A voice like that, you couldn’t help but do what he wanted.
With shaky hands I peeled the jersey up over my head, trying to look sexy while I did it—but failing miserably.
I was wearing a thin black tank top underneath the jersey…and my nipples pebbled under his watching, wanting gaze.
“You’re an angel,” he whispered, awe all over his face. It made me want to cry, which would be completely embarrassing. But no one in my life had ever looked at me like that.
I wish I could keep you.The words repeated themselves over and over and over again.
I wish you could keepme.
“I don’t know if I can be gentle, baby. I want you too much,” he growled, the words seeming to touch every part of me.
“Bring it on, Disney,” I teased, remembering the nickname I’d heard a few times tonight.
Evidently his nickname unlocked something inside of him because one minute he was staring at me, and the next he…pounced.
“Mine,” he whispered gruffly.
Oh fuck.
Something about justimaginingmyself belonging to him was an aphrodisiac in its most potent form.
He pushed me down on the bed, one hand roughly moving down my chest, in between my breasts.
“All fucking mine.”
Abruptly, my tanktop was ripped, my bra snapping off like it was made of nothing.
