I shake my head, desperate, furious, aching. “Dean, she’s right there.”
“Then bite your lip. Stay quiet. Make me believe you can take it.”
The sheet slips fully off me, pooling at my waist. His gaze devours every inch of bare skin revealed, his hunger so raw it makes me dizzy.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, the word ragged, like he’s lost the war with himself. His mouth crashes down on mine again, savage, and I lose myself in him, in the fire of it, in the way his body fits against mine like it was built for this sin.
My nails claw at his back, leaving fresh marks over the ones from last night. His hand tightens on my throat, just enough to make me gasp, just enough to make my body light up with need.
“Good girl,” he growls when my legs fall open for him, shame and desire twisting like a knife in my chest. “You’re learning.”
And even as guilt burns, even as Kate’s face flickers in my mind, all I can do is arch into him, chasing the very thing that’s going to ruin me.
His weight crushes me into the mattress, every muscle in my body screaming to resist even as my hips roll up shamelessly against him. The contradiction makes me dizzy—I don’t know if I want to claw his eyes out or beg him never to stop.
He pulls back just enough to study me, his thumb still firm beneath my chin, forcing me to meet his stare. “You’re trembling.”
“No, I’m not,” I whisper, but the shake in my voice betrays me worse than my body does.
His lips curl, smug. “You are. Not because you’re scared of me.” His fingers drag lower, tracing the lines of my collarbone, then lower still, circling a nipple until I bite back a moan. “You’re trembling because you know how wrong this is, and you still want it.”
“Dean…” His name slips out strangled, a plea, a curse.
He leans down, his mouth hovering over mine, the barest ghost of contact. “Say you don’t want me and I’ll stop.”
I can’t. The words choke me. He knows it. He sees it in my eyes, feels it in the way my body arches helplessly into his touch. His smile sharpens, victory laced with something darker, something I don’t dare name.
“That’s what I thought.”
He shifts his hips, grinding against me, slow, brutal, teasing. My gasp catches in the silence, and his hand covers my mouth again, pressing down hard enough to keep me quiet.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, his nose brushing mine. “Do you want her to hear? Do you want Kate to come running in and see how needy her best friend is for her daddy’s cock?”
Shame burns through me so hot it feels like fire under my skin. I shake my head violently, eyes stinging, but my body betrays me again—lifting into him, wet and aching and desperate.
His laugh is quiet, vicious. “God, you’re filthy.”
He shifts lower, his mouth on my throat, biting until I gasp against his palm, the sound muffled and pathetic. His free hand slides between my thighs, fingers gliding through slick heat, and my back bows, helpless.
“Already dripping,” he taunts, kissing the mark he just bit. “Tell me again how much you hate this.”
I want to scream at him, claw him, shove him away. But all that comes out is a muffled whimper against his hand, my body shuddering as his fingers tease, never giving me what I’m begging for.
He pulls back just enough to let me breathe, his stare devouring me. “You’ll break before I do,” he whispers, voice dark and certain. “And when you do—baby girl—you’ll beg me to finish ruining you.”
His fingers circle me, maddening, never enough pressure, never where I need him. My thighs clamp around his wrist like I can force him deeper, but he only laughs against my throat, cruel and amused.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over my ear. “Shaking, begging without words. Do you have any idea how pathetic you are for me?”
“Please,” I whisper before I can stop myself, the word ripping out of me raw, shameful.
He freezes, his breath hot against my neck, then pulls his hand away completely. My whole body jolts in protest, a strangled sound leaving my throat before I can choke it back.
“Please?” he echoes, leaning back just enough to watch my face. His smirk is slow, devastating. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”
“Dean—”
He presses two fingers against my lips, silencing me. “No. You don’t get to say my name like that. Not when you’ve done nothing to earn it.”
