With one quick jerk, he pulled her pants down and closed his palm over her. Damn if she didn’t fit perfectly in his hands, too. If he were the sentimental type, he’d say she’d been made for him and him alone. Good thing he wasn’t, though.
With a groan, she arched her back, pressing more fully into his palm. “Go on, then,” she breathed.
He smacked her through the lacy satin of her red panties. The sound vibrated through the otherwise silent house. So did her answering moan. “Say it. You know what I want to hear,” he growled, rubbing the spot he’d just struck.
She shook her head, her hair falling about her shoulders and hiding her face from him. He didn’t like that. He wanted to see every emotion as he fucked her senseless. The frustration. The need. The pleasure. He didn’t want to miss a thing.
Reaching up, he smoothed her hair gently off her face, and spanked her again. “Say it.”
“No,” she moaned.
“So stubborn. So sweet.” He slipped his hand between her thighs, tracing her slit. “So wet and ready. You know you want me. All you have to do is say those two little words…” He withdrew his hand—which proved to be harder than it should have been—and caressed the other side of her ass. The one he hadn’t touched yet. “And you can have me.”
She bit down on her lip. He bent down and pressed his mouth to her bare shoulder, kissing her, and pulled back. Without wasting a second, he smacked her ass again. She cried out, trying to squeeze her thighs together, but he inserted his knee between hers so she couldn’t. “Holt,” she moaned, all breathless and sexy.
He smacked her again, harder than before, and rubbed his thumb against her clit, balancing the pleasure with the pain. She cried out, biting her lip even harder. Her stubbornness was fucking hot as hell, but she needed to break before he did. She was testing his strength in ways most women didn’t even get close to touching.
He scraped his nail over her clit, biting down on her neck at the same time. She was so hot and ready for him, and damn it, he was ready for her.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, dropping her head on the wall.
“You want more?” he asked, nibbling on her ear as his fingers worked over her. “I can give it to you. Anything you want.”
He thrust inside of her, rubbing his palm against her as he did so. Every muscle within him screamed that he needed to take her. Fuck her. Own her.
He didn’t do any of those things.
“Don’t stop,” she said, her voice barely there at all.
“Say it.” He stilled, and he pulled his palm away—touching, but not touching where she needed it most. “Say it, damn it,” he growled, smacking her ass again.
“Yes, sir!” she cried. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Good girl,” he said, satisfaction punching him in the chest.
Then he twisted his hand and she cried out, her pussy clenching down tight on him. He brought her to the edge, and then he pulled back, not letting her fall over. Not yet, anyway. Not until he was ready.
Without a word, he ripped his shirt off and tossed it behind them. She looked over her shoulder, her lips parted. “M-May I please turn around?”
He froze with his hands on his buckle. “Why?”
“I want to look at you.” She paused. “All of you.”
His gut fisted tight. “Yeah. You can look.”
She spun slowly, her hands flat against the wall. Nothing prepared him for how hot she’d look, all hot and wanting and naked. He’d seen lots of naked women, but none of them affected him like this.
Strange, but true.
Her breasts were full and soft, but the tips were hard. Begging for his touch. And her waist was narrow, but it flared out generously for her hips. Those hips were meant for a man’s hands. His hands. And, man, he wanted to touch.
Her scrutiny dipped down, lingering on his abs. She licked her lips and returned his stare. “You should go shirtless more often. Damn.”
Chuckling, he undid his pants. “Thanks.”
She reached out and trailed her fingers over his shoulder, tracing the scar from his last tour in Afghanistan. The one where he’d almost died. It was the newest among his marks, scars, and wounds—some visible, some not.
“What happened here?”
He shrugged, his mind closing down. He didn’t like thinking about it, and he sure as hell didn’t like talking about it. “Nothing. Just an accident.”
She looked up at him as if she wanted to say more, but she didn’t. Just stared. “I see.”
Her fingers dipped lower, skimming over his pecs. She traced another scar, her touch feather light. Funny, how light it was, but yet…it hit him like a punch to the gut.