But instead, I moan. My body sings, my mind going dark. “Yes.”
Elias’s breath hitches. He buries his nose in my neck, just like he did in the office.
Another guttural groan. A desperate inhale.
“Roses,” he mutters, “sweet motherfucking roses.”
He lets out a masculine growl of satisfaction. My thighs clench, my pussy aching. I want to wrap my legs around him and dig my heels into his back.
Wetness slicks from my core and I arch my back, needing friction and his touch, needing more angry words and frenzied grunts.
I moan again.
“Fuck!” He smashes his fist against the door. It rattles. I flinch.
Elias’s face is inches away from mine. I drag my gaze down the dim silhouette of his strong nose, over his raised scar, resting on his full lips.
Everything aches.
Another needy whimper slips out of me.
“Lana,” he growls, and bears down, finally giving me all his delicious weight and heat, letting me feel his coiled muscles and the weapon between his legs.
“I thought you hated me,” I whisper.
I need more. Pressure builds inside my core, frustration climbing inside my chest.
I lose my battle and rub my tits against him, my eyelashes fluttering from the sharp pleasure zinging my nipples.Yes.My body begins a soft rhythm, a feminine twist, chasing the sparks to an inevitable ending.
Too many clothes.
My nipples are so hard, they hurt. I want to claw off my top and bare them to him so I can rub my naked body over this virile, dangerous man.
Slowly, I drag one heel up his leg.
He freezes and does the thing where he remains still as a statue, not even breathing.
Emboldened, I drag my heel up, up, up, until I curl it around his buttocks.
Then I cinch it tight against him, pressing my pussy against his cock.
His thick, throbbing cock.
“It doesn’t seem like you hate me that much.” My words come out slurred, the pressure sharpening in my core. I’m drunk on everything that’s Elias Kent.
With a growl, he hefts me up with one hand, drags up my skirt, and clamps his fingers hard into my ass.
He sinks his teeth into my throat, and I scream, the sting morphinginto sharp pleasure.
“My wife is a slut, isn’t she? You want pain? Pleasure?” He laps at his bite mark, his hips grinding a tortuous rhythm against me. “Want to come all over my cock like a good fucking girl?”
White light sears behind my eyelids. I twitch and tremble, my body entirely held up by his firm grip on my wrists and his weight pinning me against the door.
He moves harder, digging his pants-covered cock into my soaked thong, letting the rigid outline saw through my pussy before pressing against my clit.
My heart thunders, an electrical storm building between my legs. Lightning prickles my nipples as he grinds and grinds.
“Elias.” I don’t recognize my lust-filled, throaty voice.
