He spun to me, fire burning from his eyes. “Punish you for making me feel that way,” he snarled. “Bend you over and punish you with my hard cock until my balls are covered in you and you know exactly who your pussy belongs to, that I am the only man with the right to touch you, hold you, comfort you. Me. Only me.”
His words sliced through me, and my nipples tightened painfully. My sex was fluttering and swollen, and so damn wet. I started to tremble with the strength of my need.
“Punish me,” I whispered into the shadowy cab.
His head shot around to face me. “You don’t mean that,” he rasped, chest pumping. He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have…I never should have said it…I…”
“Punish me,” I said again. “Please, I want you to punish me.”
“Abi…” He shook his head again, gripping the wheel tighter, so tight it groaned.
I reached out, took one of his hands off the wheel and slid closer, bringing it up under my dress. I spread my legs and placed his hand on my soaked underwear. He had no idea. No idea how much I wanted it. This was the only way I knew to get that across, to let him feel it for himself. “I mean it,” I said, voice shaky with lust. “I want it.”
He pulled his hand away, and I whimpered, desperate for him, but then he was pulling off the side of the road, taking the dirt track to the old mill. It’d closed fifteen years ago. Nothing was down here anymore, except a secluded spot in the middle of nowhere, and a lake that kids swam in during summer.
“What are you doing?” I asked breathlessly, though I thought I knew, and it turned me on so damn much it was a struggle not to put my hand down the front of my underwear and relieve the ache.
He looked at me again. “I’m going to punish you, Abigail, for letting someone touch what’s mine.”
Chapter Nine
He drove to the end of the road and kept going until we reached the lake, where he pulled over. It was dark down here, but I could still see the plants, trees, and shrubs surrounding the water’s edge, unaffected by the drought.
My heart was hammering when Eli finally turned to me.
“Out, Abi.”
I swallowed, trying to get some moisture in my suddenly dry mouth. “Where do you want me?” I could see his control slipping, that molten heat, that dark, dirty part of him creeping forward. At my question, I got a flash of white teeth—not from a smile; no, he was the wolf and I was Little Red Riding Hood.
He gripped the wheel tighter. “Back…go to the back of the truck and stand there.”
I could see him fighting it, and as much as telling me what he wanted turned him on, it frightened him as well. This was uncharted territory for both of us, but neither of us was going to back out. We’d been building toward this moment from the first night he’d touched me—maybe even before.
His cock was a thick, hard ridge under the denim of his jeans, begging for my mouth, to be inside me. He was getting off on this as much as I was.
I climbed out and walked to the back of the truck, nervous excitement firing through my belly, and waited. It was cooler down here by the lake, the insects louder, and I could hear leaves rustling in the light breeze. It was idyllic, peaceful—yet none of it quieted the riot going on inside me.
It was only a few seconds, but it seemed like forever before Elijah climbed out and strode toward me, all big, heaving, aroused male.
He stopped beside me, dropped the tailgate, then tugged his shirt off and spread it on the bare steel. His breath was choppy, color high on his cheeks. “Take off the dress.”
I did what he asked immediately, lifting it over my head and flinging it into the bed of the truck.
He eyed my bra and panties. “Naked.”
I shivered at his rough command and stripped them off as well, putting them with my dress. His body shook, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. The sun had dropped, but the moon was big and bright, and I could see the way his eyes glittered. The deep hunger there.
He closed the distance between us, towering over me. “Spread your legs.”
His voice was filled with anticipation, fueling my already out-of-control need. I stepped out, doing as he asked, and his hand was there before my next breath, middle finger sliding through my swollen lips.
He groaned. “This all for me, darlin’?”
“Yes.”
“No one makes you this wet but me. Isn’t that right, Abigail?”
He kept up his torment, rubbing that wide, rough finger across my drenched opening, teasing me, not pushing in like I desperately needed him to. “No one,” I said, voice shaky as hell.
He didn’t move closer. The only part of him touching me was that maddening finger, tormenting me, making me crazy. “You look so beautiful in the moonlight,” he whispered. “Like an angel.”