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“Trust me.” He pants at my back, and som
ething large nudges my throbbing entrance. “It will be good.”
But no matter how much I want him inside me, filling me all the way, no matter how badly I want him to come undone, to lose control—I also need to see him, see his face as he comes, see his body, see if it’s as I imagined it under the clothes.
Get closer.
“Please,” I whisper, my breath catching as the broad head of his erection prods at my entrance again. “Need to see you. Can’t do it otherwise. Please, Zane.”
“Fuck. Fuck!” He shifts behind me, drawing away. I hear the sounds of him standing up. “This won’t work.”
Shit. I twist around. “Why? I’m not asking anything strange. I need to see you.”
He suddenly grabs me around the waist and lifts me in his arms. One minute I’m on the floor, the next I’m thrown over his shoulder, and then I’m dumped on my ass on the sofa. Zane leans over me and slams his hands on the backrest, on either side of my head.
“Why can’t I say no to you?” he growls, his eyes burning black. “I should walk out. I shouldn’t fuck you. I shouldn’t touch you. But I can’t fucking stop.”
I want to ask him why he shouldn’t do all these things to me, but I’m speechless. In the golden light of the lamp, his ripped torso is a work of art—taut muscles, defined pecs, a six-pack to die for and colorful ink everywhere—skulls, spiders, flowers, wings and a huge oriental dragon. His small brown nipples are pierced with silver studs, and I want to touch them, see how sensitive they are.
But then my gaze trails lower, and I lose that train of thought, too. Whoa. His pants are open and riding low on his hips, his briefs pulled down, and his hard-on juts out, big and flushed, pointing up. He’s so much bigger than I thought, and that’s not all. On the fully exposed underside, his cock is pierced with a series of silver studs, like a ladder.
A Jacob’s Ladder. Holy shit.
“Still want me?” he drawls, and my gaze shoots back up to his face. His expression is unreadable, his dark eyes flat.
He needs to ask? He’s gorgeous, and my body aches with need.
I swallow hard and lick my lips. “Why didn’t you want me to turn?”
His eyes harden, but he doesn’t reply. I place a hand on his chest, over his heart. It’s racing under my palm.
He grips my wrist and pulls my hand away. “No touching.”
I blink. I feel as if I’ve stepped into the twilight zone. “What?”
“You won’t touch me.” He leans closer, bringing that impressive erection closer, and my mouth waters. I want to lick it, taste the tiny bead of moisture shimmering on the crown. “But I will touch you everywhere.”
I frown. Is this a game? I’ve touched him before. Hell, I’ve hugged him, and he didn’t complain. So what’s this about?
“Say yes,” he whispers.
“Yes,” I say, because I can’t help it. I can’t stand the thought of not doing it, of not feeling him inside me. Of him leaving. “Yes.”
His eyes close, and he lets out a long breath. A small vein in his jaw ticks rapidly. I wonder for a moment if he thought I’d refuse, if he really doesn’t want to go through with this. If he regrets this already and would rather go—but then he pulls the open condom foil from this pocket and kneels between my legs to pull it on.
Giving me more time to study him—the way his abs contract and ripple as he rolls the condom on his rock-hard erection, over the metal balls of his piercings, the way his beautiful mouth purses in concentration, the way the muscles shift in his strong arms, making his tattoos move and dance. His long lashes cast shadows on his broad cheekbones. With his tall blue crest of hair, he looks dangerous and beautiful, like a fairytale warrior.
Then he straightens and strokes his thumb down my center, making me shiver and shake. “You’re smoking hot,” he breathes, guiding the tip of his hard cock between my folds. With his other hand, he grabs my leg and wraps it around his back as he pushes into me. “Oh fuck.”
A moan rises in my throat as he opens me up, stretches and fills me up like no one else has ever done before. It’s pain and pleasure, the piercings stroking the deepest part of me, and I need to move. I reach for him, to wrap my arms around him, push our bodies flush together.
But he grips my hands and presses them into the backrest as he slides the last inches in. His lips are so close I feel his breath on my mouth, but when I lift my head to kiss him, he turns his face away and snaps his hips.
Pleasure slams into me, the sting of the rejection washed away in burning need. I rock my hips against him, the slide of his hard cock inside me taking my breath away.
A dark grin lifts a side of his mouth, and he thrusts into me again and again. Shadows flash through his uptilted eyes as he moves in and out of me, his hands pushing mine against the leather, holding me in place.
But I need more of him, so I lift my other leg, curling it around his thigh, drawing him deeper.
