Still massaging my breast, kneading it in one hand, he takes his free one and wraps his fingers around his now full erection through his boxers. I swallow, unable to stop myself from watching as he slowly works his hand up and down, squeezing himself just as hard as he squeezes me. I’m slightly worried by all of this. He was raging mad a moment ago; now he’s instantly ready to fuck me? The possibility that those two factors are linked together is just too strong to ignore.
“I’m not having sex with you,” I breathe.
The corner of Zeth’s mouth pulls up at one corner, a knowing, unbearably arrogant smirk. “Sure you are, angry girl.”
“I am not.” I squirm pointlessly, doing my best to shimmy free. No luck. I needn’t bother, though. Zeth does something even more confusing then and relinquishes all hold over me by swinging himself off me and leaning back against the pillows. He let me go? He let me go! I jump up off the bed, spinning to stare at him incredulously. The seriousness hasn’t left his face. And his hand hasn’t left his cock. He only pauses a second to lift his hips, abdominal muscles flexing tightly, as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulls them down. His cock springs free, resting heavily against his belly as he gets rid of his underwear. The sight of him lying there, naked and completely unashamed—why the hell would he be ashamed? He’s magnificent and he knows it—makes my breath catch in my throat. He picks up where he left off, taking hold of himself in his right hand, drawing it slowly up and down the rigid skin. The whole time he does this, he stares at me intensely. His eyes never waver from mine.
“You’re totally fucked up, you know that?” I tell him. I fold my arms across my chest. “What the hell are you going for here? You expect me to shed my clothes like Bruce Almighty and jump up on that thing, just ’cause you got it out?”
A small smile breaks through the severity of his expression. It tics at the corner of his mouth. “No. I expect you to take your clothes off slow. And then I expect you to climb up on this bed on your hands and knees and I expect you to take this thing”—he squeezes his dick in his hand, making himself shiver slightly—“and put it in your mouth. And then I expect you to suck it until I tell you that you can stop.”
“Ha!” I hurry across to the other side of the room, eyeing the chair jammed effectively under the handle of the only exit from the room. I shove swiftly at the wooden back of it and it comes lose enough for me to remove it. “You’re probably the most delusional man I’ve ever met.”
He shrugs, pouting a little. Maybe. Maybe not. As if I care. “Where d’you think you’re gonna go, angry girl? Forgotten where you are?”
He has a point there. Infuriating. I slap my hand against the closed door, grimacing. “Fine. Okay. I’m not leaving the room, but I’m not gonna obey you just ’cause you told me to.”
“Would you prefer to obey me because you’re frightened for your life?” he asks casually. I can’t work out if this is a threat. He seems genuinely interested.
“I’m opting for not obeying for any reason whatsoever.” I pace back to the chair I slept in and slump down in it, making a point of looking out the window. Anywhere but at him and what he’s doing to himself.
“Fair enough.” He doesn’t even sound bothered. He’s watching me, though; I can feel his focus heavy on my skin. The room falls quiet other than the sounds of his palm working his cock and the increasingly ragged sound of his breathing. How can a guy just blatantly jerk himself off, naked, and not even flinch when the woman he’s trying to excite seems more revolted than interested? What a nutjob. I shoot a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. His body is a fucking work of art. Especially strained the way it is, locked tight against each stroke he glides up and down with his palm. He grips his hand tighter around himself, and sucks in a sharp breath. He chuckles slightly when he sees me watching him. I flick my eyes back out the window, cursing myself. Don’t play this fucking game. Do not play with him.
It’s only a matter of a minute before I’m glancing back, though. He lets out a low, hazy kind of rumble from deep within his chest and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. My legs start to twitch. I’m doing my best to ignore the warm, pooling sensation that’s forming between them. Bastard. How? How the hell does he do this to me? I shift slightly, warring with my body, trying to make it obey me and not him. But it wants to watch him. God, I do want to watch him. He doesn’t laugh when he sees me observing this time. He just looks down at himself, hooded eyes filled with sex and invitation. And then he closes them and tips his head back, and leaves me alone to come to my own decision. His hand works a little faster, making his breathing quicken with it.