“Maybe you’re just freakishly tall,” she counters, pulling back to smirk up at me through her lashes.
Brat.
I reach down, grab the backs of her thighs and lift her around my hips. She shrieks and grabs me around the neck with an airy laugh and half-hearted babbling of protest about beingheavyas I walk her back a few steps to place herass on the counter that separates the kitchen from the living space. Once again, we’re perfectly aligned, and we both groan when I push my hips forward into her softness.
“There,” I whisper, sliding my hands up the sides of her legs, flattening my palms against her hips and weaving my fingers under the straps of her panties.
“What a problem solver,” she chuckles, releasing her death grip from around my neck and resting her hands on my shoulders.
“I’m solution oriented,” I agree. “Which is whyIam going to finish what I started the other night, andyouare going to teach me how to do exactly what you like so I never leave you unsatisfied again.”
Her breath whooshes out, heat shining in her eyes. She swallows, almost a gulp, and seems suddenly… tense. I hesitate. Is she having second thoughts, or is this part of the game she likes to play? Giving in, then shying away—like a dance she choreographs to keep me wanting more.
She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Okay. Just… let me take care of some bills first.”
I groan and drop my head into the crook of her shoulder. Her warm vanilla scent floods my nose, and I want to drink her in. Want and heat are surging through my body—as fun as the push-pull of our banter is, I’m done. I need her. Now.
“Gas and electric can wait, Madison.” I try to hide the exasperation, but it leaks through.
She smirks, the ease returning to her body language as she strokes along the cut of the muscles in my shoulders and grips around the back of my neck. “Yeah, but my furry chaperone kills the mood. I should put him in the bathroom so he’s out of the way.”
There’s a beat, then I throw my head back and laugh. “Your cat is called ‘Some Bills’?”
Her smirk widens, and she nods.
“Bloody brilliant.”
“I am,” she agrees.
I grip her hips harder, watching as the rough action makes her brows quirk up in the middle with desire. “The cat can watch. I’m done waiting.”
“Then let’s move into the bedroom. As fun as it was sitting on the counter last time, we’d both be more comfortable in the bed.”
“Lead the way.”
Releasing her, I step back and offer her my hand so she can hop down safely. Once flat on her feet, she crooks her finger at me and turns to lead me to her room. I make a strangled sound at the new perspective she offers and shoot after her, nearly tripping in my haste. The roundness of her ass is perfectly framed by the straps of her panties, looking oh-so soft and biteable.
I already know I’ll be replaying this footage from the cameras.
I let her lead me into her room, where she’s already prepared the space with soft lighting. In contrast to the messy state of it last time, she made up her bed with all the blankets and pillows. She wanted this. She expected this to happen.
“Get on the bed,” I instruct softly, nodding down at it. “I’m going to make you feel good, love,” I clarify, hoping to draw a line.
Internally, I chant my promise to myself.We won’t be having sex. We won’t. Not as Peter. Not before I tell her the truth.
Fuck. I hope my resolve is as strong once I have her writhing underneath me, tits heaving as she gasps for air and hips undulating as she gets lost in the search for her pleasure.
Instead of doing what I tell her—because of course she doesn’t—she steps into me and gives me a light shove that lands me on my arse on the mattress. My arm whips out, banding around her waist and dragging her onto my lap as I go down. There’s more urgency in our kiss now, more desperation as we lick and suck and bite. My hands rove over her body, and I try to pull her more firmly down on my lap, but she hovers on her knees, refusing to grind that little pussy down on me like we clearly both want.
Fuck. Why is she fighting me, even now? Surely the plan is to give in at some point?
She did seem nervous earlier, which strikes me as quite at odds with the seductress who bared herself wearing only lingerie. But bravado is easy to fake when you’ve been doing it your whole life, and I have no problem reminding her just how sexy I think she is.
“Madison,” I say, the intentional use of her name meant to anchor her to me. I cup her cheek to make her look at me. “I love the weight of you on me. I love how you feel in my arms, how soft your skin is,” I add, skating my hand along her upper arm and pressing a kiss against the prickle of goosebumps on her shoulder. “I’m obsessed with every curve and inch of you, love.”
Her eyes flash with brief uncertainty, but she quickly hides it behind a Cheshire Cat smile. Biting her lip, she shifts to the side and reaches into the top drawer of her nightstand. I nearly go rigid, knowing precisely what’s inside, but I keep my attention on biting and sucking the soft skin of her neck.
When she rights herself, there are a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs dangling from her pointer finger. I feel my brows shoot into my hairline. “Indulge me?” she asks.
