Another shove. I went down, and he crashed over me, tangling his rough fingers through my hair.
The belt wasn't the real culprit here. It held my flesh, true, but the pleasure he'd given me was far more insidious. Far more potent.
Panic steamed through my veins. It was an impossible battle, wasn't it? How did I have a prayer when every part of me throbbed at his touch, even as my mind screamed no, no, no?
And its feeble protests were dying inside me every second. He pushed one hand between my legs, shoving aside my panties to find my folds. Smothering my clit with this thumb, he drew circles.
Slow. Agonizing. Hypnotic.
Bastard! I heard it again and again in my mind, too afraid to say it outwardly. If he didn't slap me across the face as punishment, then maybe he'd withhold the release I burned for. He already kept it just out of reach, making the pressure in his fingers just enough to tease, without bringing me off.
Oh, God. What have you done to me? What have I become?
“I'm gonna take my hand off your mouth, babe,” he growled, his hot breath filling my ear. “Soon as I do, be fucking honest. Tell me you want this. Don't try to hide it. I want your mind to line up with this sweet little body, Cassie. It knows what it wants. Fucking listen to it for once...”
My heart fluttered. Damn him, I wanted to fight. I struggled to free myself, but I should've known it was hopeless. A few quick jerks told me Houdini himself couldn't have gotten his hands out of the constricting leather.
And that was the least of it. His strokes were picking up, edging me closer, pushing me a little deeper into the mind numbing fire surging up inside me.
Fucking listen to it. Listen, listen, listen...
His words repeated in my head. Every electric pulse in my clit was another shout, another shriek in the brutal stillness to give up, to give into the music boiling in my blood. Raw desire was surrender, and giving in made me want to kick and scream and bite.
But then, why did it feel so seductive, so damned good?
He took his hand off my face. My lips were free to scream and curse.
“Well, girl? What's it gonna be?” I saw a whisper of a smile on his lips as his thumb pushed harder against my nub, sending a shock through my system that caused me to squirm. “Tell me.”
“I want...I want it!” Disaster! And my lips were still moving when he quickened his laps, teasing out the last thing he demanded. “I need it, sir. Please.”
It hurt to say those words. But a second later, my body showered me in thanks, writhing and bucking against his hand as it went wild in the slick, hot heat. Evan leaned in and forced his lips on mine. Another explosive, oxygen stealing kiss rocked my body just as my orgasm began.
My eyes snapped open and I screamed into his mouth. He swallowed it, grunting and holding my bottom lip with his teeth. Our tongues danced and mine spasmed meekly against his.
It was over, completely fucking over as the tsunami ripped through me, a fiery and delicious cyclone. I was buried in pleasure, buried in him, and I didn't have a prayer of coming up.
When I could finally see and breathe, he moved off me, lifting me in his arms. “You come so good, babe, when you finally let go. Never fight it with me. Ever. If I want you to blow, Cassie, then you just fucking do it. Remember what I told you before: good things come to good girls who know how to listen.”
He reached behind my back and fished for his belt. In one jerk, the leather was off. My hands were free. A reward, I guessed, for serving him so well.
An insult too, even if I was glad he'd released me.
Bastard. I wasn't a child or a pet to pat on the head after I'd done my duty.
Rocking forward, I fell, still dizzy with confusion and anger.
I steadied myself against his chest, laying my hands out. Big mistake.
Feeling his rock hard body only kindled new desire. It pulsed between my legs as my trembling fingers went up his abs and traced his chest. Slowly, I looked up, forcing myself to take in those eyes in the darkness, glowing with his intensity.
“Is this what you want?” He brought one hand to his collar and flicked open the top button on his shit. “Go ahead. Rip my fucking shirt open. You earned it.”
I instinctively licked my lips. My hands stopped just below his breasts, fiddling with one of the openings in between his buttons.
Just rip it? Was he serious?
“Are you sure?” I whispered.
His face hardened. I realized he was trying not to smile as he pushed my small hands aside with his and gripped both sides of his shirt. In one quick tug, the buttons went flying.
They bounced on the bed and clacked on the floor like pebbles. His shirt was open, baring his beautiful flesh, and he covered my hands in his, making me open up the fabric.
When I saw what he had there, I gasped.
Even in the dark, I could see the tattoos. Harsh black flames and elaborate geometric designs hooked over his chest and went down his shoulders, no doubt continuing on his back. Huge swords were crossed over his chest, so big and detailed I imagined he could pull them off his skin and cut someone's head off. He was a walking mural, decorated like a heathen warrior. The excitement rocked my desire, hot and wicked as hell.