“That’s why you should submit to me,” I exhale. “Shouldn’t fight me.”
“And you’re funny too.”
I crack a smile.
“You’ve got to be mad if you think I’m letting sand get up my ass, Zayan,” I murmur breathlessly. To tease him, I grab a handful of sand and let it trickle over his chest. His pupils darken, and I can practically hear his teeth grind in frustration.
There’s only so much of my teasing this man can take. His hands grip my hips, fingers digging into my skin.
“And what makes you think I’ll let that happen to me?” he growls, voice tight as he squeezes harder.
I laugh again, soft and wicked, biting my lip. “Oh, you already do.”
I guide his hands higher, up to my chest, letting my sultriest smirk curl my lips. It’s a power I’ve never used on anyone else but him—a dangerous, seductive power. And it works. His mouth snaps shut, eyes locked on me like I’ve cast a spell.
He doesn’t hesitate. His fingers pinch my nipples, just hard enough to make my breath catch, and I reward him by pressing harder, moving faster. I want him to feel it, feel how I’ve got him right where I want him.
His body shudders, goosebumps rippling over his skin. I can see it in him—the surrender. It’s in his arms, his chest, his throat. He’s mine.
And my body reacts, my clit throbbing to the sight of him.
“Why’d you keep me waiting, Gypsy?” he asks, voice low and strained. “What was so damn important that you couldn’t meet me last month?”
“Does it really matter?” I counter, grinding against him, watching his resolve weaken. His grip tightens, harder this time, pinching my nipples in a way that sends sparks through my body. But it’s not enough to break me. Not yet.
“It does,” he growls.
The truth? There was nothing stopping me. I could’ve come, had the opportunity for it, but I didn’t. And why? Because this—whatever this is between us—it’s too dangerous. Too real.
“Oh, Zayan,” I murmur, feeling his hips shift beneath me, his cock sliding to just the right angle. My body aches for him, for that familiar fullness I’ve been denying myself. “I won’t tell you.”
He’s got a pull on me, something wicked. Something I call Evil because it only leads to trouble.
“Such a tease,” he exhales, but his voice is rougher now. The playfulness is fading.
I reach between us, fingers wrapping around his cock, guiding him toward where I need him most. But just as he’s about to fill me, he grabs my wrists, stopping me cold.
“Was it because you saw someone else?” he asks, his voice quiet but deadly, his grip tight around my hands. I freeze, heart pounding as he flips us, pinning me beneath him in the sand.
I gasp—he’s so quick.
My instincts scream at me to reach for my daggers. No man overpowers me and lives to brag about it. But there’s something in his eyes—something raw, vulnerable—that makes me pause.
“Gypsy,” he breathes, his face close enough that I can feel his breath on my skin. The moonlight dances in his eyes, softening the hard lines of his face. “Answer me.” His arm presses against my chest as he lowers himself, biting down on my neck. I gasp, reaching for my clit, but he’s quicker. His thumb circles it, and his finger slips inside me, curling just right.
My back arches. I wrap my arms around his neck, the fight in me crumbling. Maybe this time I’ll let him have me.
“If you think I like possessiveness, you’re dead wrong,” I growl, trying to keep my voice steady even as the pleasure builds.
“I need to know, Gypsy. Tell me.”
I snarl, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his face close to mine. “No.”
His fingers curl deeper, and his thumb presses harder, the threat hanging in the air.
“Tell me,” he whispers, eyes locked on mine, “or I’ll stop.”
Fuck. That familiar evil stirs deep inside me, bending my will until I break beneath it. I don’t want him to stop—I don’t want him to ever stop.
