Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel(95)

 

“Call me by my real name,” he says, whispering darkly before nipping me.

 

I squeak with surprise and my face burns with passion and a feeling of real danger. This is insane, the way he’s making me react. I don’t even know who I am right now.

 

“Mikhail,” I whisper. I can’t get the word out louder than that. God, why is his name so sexy? That’s so stupid! It’s just a name!

 

“What do you want me to do? Tell me.”

 

I can’t say it. I feel too vulnerable. He’s got his hands on me and I’m held captive with invisible strings. I move against his touch as his finger goes deeper inside me.

 

“Say it,” he taunts, right next to my ear. His tongue flicks my earlobe before he goes over to my other breast. I can feel his chest on me a little and I strain to get closer to him.

 

“What do you want?” he asks again. “Just say it and it’ll happen.”

 

“I want … you. Mikhail, I want you...”

 

“You want me to…?”

 

He’s driving me insane. I know he knows what I want, but I also know that he won’t give it to me until he hears it. He is in complete control, and I should rebel against it and hate it but I don’t. I love it too much to play that game. I am totally digging this whole master and servant thing.

 

I grit my teeth, take a big breath, and then just go for it.

 

“I want you to put that big goddamn dick inside me again and fuck me senseless.” A big whoosh of air leaves my lungs along with the stress of saying those words out loud. “Jesus. Did you have to make me say it?”

 

He chuckles low in his throat as he climbs on top of me. “Your wish is my command,” he says, right before he slides into me.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

 

 

 

 

 

I’M NOT SURE IF WE slept. Maybe I caught a few winks here and there, cuddled up in Mick’s strong arms with my head on his chest, but when I see a few rays of sun coming through the window, I know it’s time to get going. Colin and Alissa are going to be getting up soon and they’re going to come over here and bang on the door and expect to see two messy beds. I don’t want to ride back in that car for seven hours with them knowing what we did. Talk about awko taco.

 

I’m too vulnerable right now to deal with teasing or conversation about it. I need to know exactly where Mick’s head is first. I don’t want to be the only one mooning over our love affair, as brief as it might be. I’m not a total amateur at this stuff. Just because we fit together like puzzle pieces, it doesn’t mean we’re suddenly in a relationship. As much as I might want that to happen, it takes two to tango, and I don’t know if Mick ever does anything but the bump and grind on that dance floor.

 

I get up in all my naked glory, feeling like the queen of sexy time, and go over to the bed that hasn’t been touched. I get busy pulling the top cover off and messing up the sheets.

 

“What are you doing?” Mick asks in a sleep-roughened voice.

 

I shake the top sheet out and then twist it all up. “Making it look like we didn’t go at it like sex-crazed rabbits last night.”

 

He sits up on the side of the bed nearest me, rubbing his face.

 

I look over and my heart stops beating for a few seconds. His hair is standing on end and his face is covered in patchy beard stubble, but he could not possibly be more adorable. I think I’m falling in love. My heart spasms painfully in my chest. Oh shit. This is going to hurt.

 

“What?” he asks, rubbing his head and looking up at me. “Bad hair day?”

 

I shake my head, holding back weirdo tears that threaten to ruin the moment. Be cool, Quin. Be casual. Do not go all needy on him. “Good hair day, actually.” My voice sounds all wispy, but I can’t help it.

 

He lifts an eyebrow and stands. And then he makes his way slowly around the bed.

 

Now I know what a small rabbit feels like when the eagle soars above and the shadow falls on the ground around him. Trapped. Danger.

 

“What are you doing?” I ask, moving around the bed to get away from him, trying to act casual about it but probably failing.

 

“You look good in the morning,” he says.

 

A glance down at his waist tells me he’s got morning-wood-itis in a big way. It’s almost painful-looking. I should probably help him with that. No. Wait. Be cool. Colin and Alissa will be over any minute.

 

“Go away, Mick. I have to take a shower.”

 

“Not yet you don’t.” He’s almost at the end of the second bed and I’m up near its headboard. A strange fight or flight instinct comes over me and I debate which way to go.