“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it my way. We’re going to go slow.”
“Why?” It’s hard to think, when he’s tracing his fingers over me like that, sending sparks across my skin.
“Because I say so.”
The strong line of his throat moves, and his fingers meet my center.
“Fuck,” I gasp as hot sensation races through me.
He makes a low noise of surprise and agony. “Your cunt is soaked. Is that for me, honey?”
I press my lips together to hold in the moan as he slides his fingers over my clit and sparks rush through me.
“Jordan.”
A stifled moan slips out of my throat.
“Let’s hear ayesorno.”
“Yes.” Evil bastard.
“Very good.”
I shouldn’t like that firm tone of voice so much, but Ido. I like him telling me what to do because it means he’s finally letting himself enjoy something.
And if that something is me, well, even better.
“Ask me.” His voice is rough like sandpaper. “Ask me for what you need.”
“Touch me. Make me come. Please. I need you.”
“Yes,” he hisses, like I’ve unlocked one more door inside him, letting out another couple feet of slack on his control.
His hand comes to the sensitive spot and my body responds, tightening as he swirls his fingers. My hands are in his hair, and god, he’s so gorgeous like this, all hard planes, toned muscle, dark eyes. The front of his boxers tents with his impressive erection, but I’m his full focus. His gaze swings from where his fingers work to my necklace to my face. His jaw flexes, he breathes hard, and he keeps me right on the edge for an eternity, nudging me closer to release before he walks it back.
I’m shaking, sweating, and desperate. Begging. Gasping. I could stop it with one word, but I won’t. His hair’s a mess, falling into his eyes. He’s breathing hard, cheekbones flushed, with a fascinated tilt to his mouth and a ravenous look in his eyes.
Tate Ward is a devil, taking exactly what he needs. His fingers reach the pace I need, slick, fast circles at the perfect pressure, and heat loops through me. My toes curl, I stop breathing, and I reach out blindly. Tate’s fingers lace through mine, squeezing, and I tip over the edge.
My release crashes through me, a molten, pulsing, writhing brightness, racing through my blood and melting my brain with the overwhelming pleasure. Every nerve in my body explodes, the intense sensation blinding behind my eyes.
I am weightless. I no longer exist. I am a billion specks of sparkling dust.
Tate’s lips come to mine as he kisses me through it, murmuring praises, encouragement, and my name, over and over again.
“I wondered what you looked like when you came,” he says, almost like he’s talking to himself, as I come down. “I thought about it.”
I sigh, breathing hard. “I want to touch you.”
“No.” His teeth scrape the spot on my neck where the ghost of the hickey remains.
My lips part but he silences me with a thorough, drugging kiss before he breaks it and looks down at me. “When someone does something nice for you, Jordan, you say thank you.”
My face goes hot but I smile, remembering him saying that to me in his office.
His eyebrows lift. “Well?”
I’m grinning.
