A stuttered laugh comes out of him, like he’s surprised but amused at my response.
“Yeah, well, all the same. You’re fuckingmetonight.” He uses the leverage he has to push me against the tiles, and I stare up at him. And fuck he’s beautiful, distractingly so.
“So then fuck me. I don’t need all the rest. I told you that I’m not—”
Before I can finish the sentence, his lips are on my throat and his hand slides over my breast, pulling my nipple between his fingers and pinching just enough that it sends a bolt of pleasure and a tinge of pain through me. He slides his thumb over it again, like he’s trying to soothe the pain he caused before he moves to the other and repeats the same measures.
“Fuck,” I curse and start to slide down the tile a little, but he slides his leg between mine and his hand wraps around one side of my throat, pinning me in place while he nips along the underside of my jaw. His other hand cups my breast again, rolling the tender tip between his fingers until he has me in such a fucking state that I rock against his leg for friction before I realize what I’m doing. Until a little sound of satisfaction rumbles out of his mouth and against my throat, and I start to stand up straight again. But his hand tenses around my throat. Not enough to hurt but enough to grab my attention.
My eyes drift to his, and I’d swear they changed color. Darkened three shades from their usual pale green, because of the way his lashes are low. The way he looks at me, I worry for my own sanity.
“Don’t stop. Grind that sweet little cunt on my thigh. I want to feel how desperate I make you.”
“Fuck you.”
He grins. “Patience. I told you.”
Then he pinches my nipple again, hard, and a little gasp pops out of me, and I rock forward as the tingling sensation it leaves in its wake blooms to pleasure.
“You like that?” he mutters against my skin before he skims his teeth over my neck and then brings his mouth to mine, kissing me again with renewed fervor.
I pull away, turning my head, annoyed that he thinks he has my number. “You’re boring me.”
“Am I?” He slides his hand down between us, reaching between my legs, and dragging two fingers along my center before he holds them up for me to see. “That why you’re so fucking wet? Because I’m boring you?”
I raise one shoulder half-heartedly, “That’s from looking at you. Not from anything you’re doing. I have no trouble admitting you look incredibly fuckable. It’s a shame you don’t have the talent to match.”
An incredulous sound leaves his throat, and he lets go of me, and I slide down the wall just the tiniest bit where he’d been bracing me. He shuts the water off and opens the door to the shower, reaching out to grab the towels that are on the rod there. He tosses one to me and uses one on himself.
It all happens so fast that I can barely register what’s happening. Apparently, I’ve pushed him so far, he’s just done with me. Which is going to be very unfortunate for me if it means it costs me the chance I had tonight with him. I doubt I get another. Especially one like this where he practically begged me.
I towel off in the silence, a little shocked and unsure whether to speak again. But the quiet beyond the slow drip of the showerhead is suffocating.
“That it, then? All you’ve got?” I goad him again because I have no other alternative in me.
He tosses the towel he’s using to the floor. Then he grabs me, tossing my towel down, and hauls me up with one fucking arm carrying me back into my bedroom, and tosses me down on the bed.
I start to sit up, but he climbs on top of me in one swift move, pinning my legs between his thighs. He reaches over my head, grabbing one of my pillows and rips the end off of one of them.
I let out a little shocked growl sitting halfway up and looking back at my pillow. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I bought them. I’ll use them how I want. And I’ll get you more if you can fucking behave,” he grumbles at me, his brow furrowed and his whole face a mess of disgruntled irritation.
He wasn’t wrong. He had technically bought them. They’re the ones he got me after he’d sent Waylon up here to my room thinking Mackenzie was here when in reality it was a trap that Holly had set for him. Trying to convince him to be with her instead of Kenz. It failed miserably, but the trail of body glitter Holly had left in my room had left me more than a little pissed. So he’d sent me four sets of sheets to replace the ones he’d helped damage. Ones far nicer, and much more luxurious in their thread count, than anything I owned before them. I loved them, but I wasn’t going to let him know that.
“What are you doing with it anyway?” I ask, looking at the sad torn edge of my pillowcase.
“Blindfolding you,” he says it so matter-of-factly I’m still somewhat confused when he starts to wrap the fabric around my eyes.
“What?” I ask softly, but I feel the whisper of apprehension slide down low and pool into desire at the thought of not being able to see where he’ll touch me next.
“You can talk your shit, Princess. But you’re not gonna fucking lie to me.” I can feel him tighten the knot at the back of my head and the room which was already dim descends into darkness.
“Sensitive I’m using you for your body now?” I smirk.
“Just helping you focus on what’s important.”
“Gonna gag me next?” I taunt, but I’m a little worried that I’ve given him an idea as soon as I say it.
