Possession(Sons of Odin MC)(33)

Oh the benefits of long arms…

She bucked her hips in retaliation, silently begging him to pick up speed.

“No,” he chastised. “I’ll set the pace this time.”

There was the side of him she admired most—the alpha who seized control. She rolled her hips with his, the sensations different from their first encounter, sweeter perhaps, and definitely more soul-baring.

Was that his new strategy? Hard and fast first, then fuck her painfully slowly until she lost all control? Did it matter? What could she do with a two-hundred-pound body on top of her except yield to the pleasure?

In and out, over and over again. Methodic and precisely measured movements that left her in a daze. The moment she felt her orgasm building, he’d pause just long enough for the feeling to fade a little, then he’d resume the tempo, forcing it to the surface again. His lazy pace left a hollow pain between her legs. She wanted to come now—needed absolute release.

She snapped her hips. “Give me what I want.”

He clicked his tongue. “Are you in a position to make demands?” He gripped her wrists tighter.

She tried to wiggle free but knew she couldn’t. He chuckled, obviously enjoying his power trip. “You’re not playing fair.”

Again he buried his face in her long hair. “Did you have mercy on me every time you tried to manipulate me into having sex with you? Do you know how many times I went home with a hard-on and masturbated in the shower?” The tip of his tongue found her inner ear, then he nipped the lobe. “I think you’re enjoying this more than you’d care to admit.”

Oh God, how did he know what she liked? A little psychological warfare made sex more gratifying. “You made me wait months before you gave in. Anything I ever did to get your attention serves you right.”

His thrusts increased in intensity before he let go of her hands and pulled out. He rolled onto his back, letting her straddle his midsection. “I can’t argue with that, darlin’, so I cede control to you.” He plumped the pillow, then crossed his arms underneath his head, an arrogant smile splitting his face.

It all happened so fast she didn’t know what to say. But there were things she wanted to do, naughty things. “Bet we can find a better use for that mouth.” She pushed forward, her center mere inches from his lips.

He raised his head and his expression changed dramatically as he eyed the prize in front of him. “Don’t get too close—I’ll bite that little thing.”

She laughed, liking the idea very much. “What doesn’t kill you…”

His hands moved in a blurry flash. He parted her folds with his fingers, and his other hand clamped onto her right ass cheek, forcing her closer to his mouth. “You’re going to scream my name before I stop, Tina. Someone needs to discipline you properly.” His tongue sank deep and she arched her back, giving in to the all-consuming pleasure only his experienced fingers and tongue could elicit.

She fisted the bedspread, biting her tongue to keep silent. Somehow this had turned into a challenge. She refused to make a sound. But when his tongue feathered over her sensitive nub, she lost it.

“V-i-n-c-e-n-t…”

Then his fingers found her nipples. He pinched hard, working her pussy with his tongue at the same time. Damn it—she couldn’t hold back and came in his mouth.

—

How could she possibly sleep after living something she’d dreamed about for so long? Vincent was asleep in her bed. Her bed…It still hadn’t sunk in completely. Tina watched the rise and fall of his chest. It had the same hypnotizing effect as a pendulum or ticking clock. Three orgasms. And she already wanted more. But she couldn’t wake him; he looked too peaceful and happy. His sensuous lips were curled upward in a half smile. How long had it been since he felt completely satisfied? Probably as long as it had been for her.

She eased his arm off her stomach and folded it gently across his chest. She wanted a glass of water and a late-night snack. Out of bed now, she padded down the hallway to the kitchen. Two o’clock in the morning and her stomach growled like it was dinnertime. She rummaged through various Tupperware containers in the fridge and found leftover mashed potatoes and cream gravy. Yum. She shoved it in the microwave, then filled a glass with ice. After sucking down cold water, the micro dinged.

Before she could taste the first forkful of one of her favorite indulgences, her cellphone rang. Who would be calling so late? Worry threaded through her. Were her parents okay? Her brother? She rushed to the dining room, where she’d left her purse, and fished her cell out of the inner pocket. Private name and number flashed across the screen.