“If you really want me to stop, say it.”
She doesn’t.
Doesn’t tell me to stop.
Doesn’t tell me to keep going, either.
Just tilts her chin up, never breaking eye contact, like she’s daring me to finish what I just started.
And I plan on it.
I crash into her like waves on the shore, merciless and claiming. Every nerve in my body screams to own her, to mark her, to devour her completely. I won’t stop until every inch of her is mine. Her gasp rips through me and shreds any ounce of restraint I had left.
I can’t touch her fast enough. One hand is tangled in her hair; the other is dragging down her spine, gripping her thigh. I can’t choose. I won’t. I want all of her, all at once. Every breath, every shiver, every inch of skin beneath my hands fuels a fire I can no longer contain.
I wrap my hands around the back of her thighs, lifting her without hesitation. A surprised shriek slips from her lips, adding more fuel to the fire raging inside me. She clamps her legs around me instinctively, pressing into me, and I don’t even care where the bedroom is.
I sit her on the kitchen island, her breath ragged and uneven, as my hips slide between her legs. I can feel her trembling before me, the sensation pushing me further into this feral need.
My mouth finds her neck, and her pulse is wild as I drag my teeth over the sensitive skin. Her hoodie hits the floor, then her top. I don’t know if I’m pulling them off or she is, but it doesn’t matter. I just know I need her naked. Now.
I lift her slightly, tugging her sweats down to her ankles before yanking them off and tossing them on the kitchen floor. Every movement, every piece of fabric, is mine to command.
I slide her to the edge of the counter, slipping a hand between her thighs. A wicked smirk spreads across my face as I feel the dripping arousal there. “How long have you been this wet for me? Since the gala? On the plane?” She stays quiet, but the look in her eyes tells me everything I need to know. I’ve been right all along.
Not wasting another second, I drop to my knees, my mouth tracing a path from her calf to the soft skin on the inside of her thigh. She moans quietly as I tease the sensitive area with my teeth and tongue. I hover there, allowing more tension to build between us.
I feel her body tense beneath my hands.
Trying to stay quiet or trying not to let me see how badly she wants this. Still grasping for some form of control, like she’s not already coming undone.
I slide my palms up the sides of her thighs and grip her hips tightly. Hard enough that she can’t move much without my permission. A shudder runs down the length of her body. Exactly.
I lower my mouth, lips brushing so close to her center that I can feel her shaking. But I don’t give her what she wants. Not yet. “You’re still trying to hold it together, aren’t you?"
She opens her mouth to reply, but the only thing that leaves it is a gasp as I bite down, hard, on the inside of her thigh, and she squirms on the counter’s edge.
I rise slightly, sliding one hand up and wrapping it firmly around her throat. Not enough to affect her breathing, but enough to get her attention. “Relax,” I whisper in her ear, “or I’ll take even longer.” She whimpers in response as I plant a soft kiss on her jaw.
Her body stills as she draws in a breath, shaky but deep, steadying herself.
“That’s right,” I murmur, “Don’t fight it.” I lower my mouth back to her skin, letting her feel every word. “You don’t have to pretend anymore, Arden. I want you to feel everything. And I want to hear how much you love it.”
Her breath hitches, a jagged sound that cuts through the silence. “Yes,” she whispers. The word sounds more like a prayer than a promise.
She leans back on her hands; her legs draped over my shoulders. This time, I don’t tease. I dive in, my tongue flat against her entrance, gliding up to meet her clit. A moan slips from her lips, louder now. I take her clit in my mouth, and she grinds against me, chasing more. Her body already revealing the truth she’s tried so hard to hide.
Her body is already begging for release. I can feel it in the way her hips twitch, the breath caught in her throat, how her legs start to tense and shake.
I pull back, and she responds with a strangled noise: half moan, half protest. I press a kiss right above where she wants me most and look up at her. “Not yet.”
She’s glaring down at me, her hair wildly framing her face. Chest rising and falling like she’s about to explode. “Why?” she breathes.
I rise again, this time grabbing her wrists and pinning them in place. “Because you’ve been playing this game for almost two weeks,” I growl, “no more lying, Arden. Not after the way you acted at the gala.” I lean in until our breaths mingle. “I’m done watching you pretend. I’ve already admitted I’m weak for you. Now it’s your turn.”
“So, if you want to come, if you want me to take you right here, you’re going to beg for it.”
She pauses; a quiet sigh slips through her lips. Then she whispers, “I don’t beg.”
