I reflexively pull back, body tensing.
He wets his lips, pressing them together. His hair drifts over his forehead in the misty wind, a question banked there in the intensity of his eyes.
“The gloves,” he says knowingly, and I simply nod, allowing the excuse.
“Hmm.” His hands slip to my thighs, fingers splaying. “Maybe I’m not the only one who would benefit from a little exposure therapy.”
Orion drags his palms up my bare thighs, the clash between rough leather and his tender touch unnerving. It unsettles my senses, anxiety tangling with anticipation as his grip firms.
His thumbs come to rest at the sensitive joints of my thighs, and I scrape in a tight breath, inadvertently rocking against him. He mutters a harsh curse under his breath as his gloved thumb edges the lace seam of my panties.
My tremble of fear excites him. I can feel him beneath me, growing impossibly hard, the instinctive lift of his hips driving the ache deeper.
“Fuck,” he swears, and in one desperate move, he hauls my knee up higher along his hip, fingers digging into my thigh.
“Orion—” I say his name on an escaped breath, my hands dropping to his forearms.
“I need to feel you come,” he says, the low, abrasive tone of his voice delivered in demand. Not want—need. “Nothing would give me more pleasure than watching you unravel on my fingers.”
The fierce desire in his gaze steals my breath, and any refusal. With a shaky exhale, I remove my hands, the subtle lift of their weight giving him permission.
He reaches his free hand around my waist as he cautiously hooks a finger at the seat of my panties. Cold air drifts between my thighs, making my arousal apparent.
His eyes fuse to mine, holding me as bound as his hand braced at my back. His finger slowly slips beneath the thin barrier of material, then the coarse feel of leather is touching me. He circles the pad around my center, and a shock of alarm snatches the air from my lungs.
My stomach tenses, my hands grab hold of his biceps, bracing myself?—
“Breathe, Collins.”
At his coaxing words, I draw in a sharp breath, release it slowly—and then he’s pushing inside me, stealing my next, my muscles tensing at the sudden intrusion.
An unrestrained groan rumbles from the back of his throat as he inserts his gloved finger deeper, his thumb pressed to the tender flesh of my pelvis. “Oh, god—damn.” It’s a heated avowal falling from his lips as he stills inside me. I feel his tremor of restraint the same way I felt the tension vibrate through the blades of his tie collared around my neck.
“I’m fine,” I say to reassure him, urging him on with a slight rock of my hips, and something starved and reckless ignites behind his eyes.
“Fuck. I’m not, angel.” It’s the only warning I’m given before the hand at my back slides to my nape, fingers splaying into my hair and arching my body toward him. Then he drags out and pushes in deeper, setting off a spark of heat through my skin.
I try to control my breathing as his strokes deepen, becoming unguarded, heightening the fear wanting to swallow me at the coarse leather touching so intimately. My teeth sink into my bottom lip, and that action strips another measure of his control. Raw hunger darkens his eyes as he inserts another finger. Filling, testing, fraying my nerves apart.
“Goddammit, Collins, you’d be so fucking tight around me—” He breaks off, his eyes slamming shut as an agonized current of want arcs from him to me. He’s fucking me with his fingers, stretching me around him. Slipping out only to sink in deeper, harder. Working the low, achy heat into a throb.
His rhythmic insertions ignite a flame in my chest, threading lust through every nerve ending. Heat suffocates me beneath his jacket, and I yank at the scarf to loosen it. My nipples tighten against the shifting material of my blouse, turning my breaths erratic. Orion’s predatory gaze hones on the bruises, his hips grinding upward in search of relief.
“Tell me how that feels,” he demands. “Tell me what you like.” His thumb scrapes over my clit, making my breath stutter and sending a searing shockwave of arousal up my spine.
“It’s intense—but don’t stop,” I gasp between words. “God, Orion—take off your glove. Let me feel you.”
“Fuck, angel. Don’t tempt me.” Whatever restraint he held fractures. The small noise that escapes my mouth undoes him, and a feral growl rips from his throat as he strokes mercilessly deeper.
“I want you…” It’s a whisper coming from my trembling lips, and I’m shaken to find I mean it. In this suspended moment of heat and sensation, I want Orion in a way I never thought possible again.
“You have me,” he answers on a claiming thrust, the coarse rasp of his groan just as abrasive against my skin. Every lurid sound is friction across my nerves. Skillful fingers I’ve watched meticulously balance instruments, move masterfully over piano keys, now curl expertly inside me, finding that deep, desperate ache.
My inner muscles clamp around him, throbbing with urgent pulses. My thighs tremble, clenching against his waist. God, he’s laying claim to me out in the open, marking me like one of his scenes beneath an endless sky, so exposed. And if he wanted to break me like one of his victims, I’m helpless to stop him.
My eyes squeeze closed, trying to block out the terror that flickers at the edges, the phantom sensation of pressure and painful, tearing penetration?—
“Open your eyes,” Orion commands, tone measured, controlled. “Look at me. Stay with me.” On instinct, I obey, anchoring to those heated teal currents. “Breathe, Collins. That’s it, baby. You can take it for me—fuck.” His rough moan of approval liquifies my muscles.
