Power and Possession(62)
She sucked in a breath as a streak of pure lust spiked through her senses. But her no-nonsense voice of reason quickly leaped in and barked, “Are you fucking kidding me?” Once again back in control of her traitorous libido, remembering where she was and the bloody injustice of it all, she snapped, “Don’t you dare even think about it!”
He went still; nothing moved. “Probably not a good idea to use the word dare right now.” His voice was velvety soft. “The mood I’m in.” Then he lightened the pressure of his fingers and gently ran his palm over her ass. “Let’s keep the beast in the cage, okay?”
A shiver ran up her spine, but she forced herself to speak calmly. “Look, why don’t you let me up.” But even as she spoke, she felt a finely drawn pleasure course through her body from the point of skin-on-skin contact, the warmth of his palm stroking her bottom disastrously undermining issues of personal autonomy. “Seriously, let me up.” But her voice caught at the last as his hand slipped between her legs.
He heard that small suffocated sound, sullenly wondered whether de Barre had heard it too, or how often he’d heard it. And it took enormous self-control to ask in a tone of relative mildness, “Are you sure?” He slid two fingers up her sleek cleft, slipped them inside briefly in a quick vetting, and ignored her quick shuddering gasp. “You have a real friendly pussy, babe. Hot and slippery, nice and wet—see.” He slid his damp fingertips down the bridge of her nose. “So I’m thinking maybe you want to be fucked after all.”
“No.”
But her voice was barely audible, and a tiny sheen of fresh moisture gleamed on her pouty sex. “Liar,” he whispered. And suddenly, the image of de Barre tapping that sweetness relooped through his brain, obliterating all but a need for revenge. “Did you bend over for de Barre last night?” he drawled, a nasty edge to his voice as he reached for his zipper. “Am I getting seconds?”
“Jesus, let it go.” Her temper instantly reignited at his bloody double standard, jealous too of the Nordic twins when stupid didn’t even begin to explain the folly of that feeling, she fought against his casual control and the unwanted frisson of hot desire making her even wetter, and damn it, aching now. “Go fuck your twin bimbos,” she muttered, pissed for reasons of her own, for stupid jealous reasons that didn’t bear close scrutiny. “I’m not interested.”
Splaying his fingers wider, he exerted more pressure on her back. “Calm down, babe. You’re always interested, we both know that.” Then, pulling out his throbbing dick past the well-designed zipper placket that kept his tender skin safe, without preliminaries, without so much as a hint of foreplay, he plunged into her sex and buried himself to the hilt in a single, hard, powerful thrust. “See, smooth as silk. You like to fuck, pussycat. I could tell the first time I saw you. There’s one hot chick, I thought. Ready for anything. Like this.” He drove in deeper, in a hard, deliberate stroke. “Feel that?” he unnecessarily murmured at her quivering moan. “And this?” he grunted, cursing her seductive allure and his insatiable hunger, wanting her to pay for what the gift of roses meant, for her goddamned availability, for her lush, welcoming warmth that Andre probably slid into all night long just like that. “Fuuuck.”
She groaned, the stunning jolt registering as pleasure when it shouldn’t, her body liquefying with longing when it shouldn’t, the feel of him dragging back in a slow, lingering withdrawal making her whimper when it shouldn’t. And desperate to keep him close, she squirmed, contracted her muscles, and tried to shift backward to maintain the acute, rapturous sensation.
He spanked her ass. “Don’t move! This isn’t for you. It’s for me. And don’t you dare come,” he growled.
“Like you can stop me,” she sneered.
“Damn right I can. And you will not be fucking de Barre again.” He drove in with all his strength, as if he could dominate her with sheer physical force, make her submit to him alone. Another irrepressible thrust of his hips touched her deep in her core and left her whimpering, panting, pulsing up and down his entire hard length. “I need an answer!”
“Yes, yes,” she whispered, defenseless against her need, a slave to her passions, to him, to the extravagant soul-stirring pleasure he dispensed with such ease.
“Yes?” He went still inside her, jealousy licking a fiery path of destruction through his brain.
She heard the thin-skinned resentment, the wild intemperance in the single word. “No, no,” she cried, instantly aware of her mistake. “I mean, no I didn’t, I won’t!” she quickly added at his low, savage growl.