I throw open his bedroom door with a chuckle as I lead him to his massive bed. Reversing our positions, I shove him down on the mattress. He flops down with a grin, but it’s warring witha frown. He’s not stupid; he doesn’t understand where this is going, but he’s too intrigued to fight me.
“Look up,” I command. He does, and our gazes meet in the mirror. “Now tell me I’m the first woman you have brought home.”
His lips twitch, then he lunges forward, grabs my thighs, and drags me onto his lap. My hands fall onto his chest, and the panic I expect to feel at the unexpected contact is drowned out by the heat. “That wasn’t an invitation.”
He flips us and has me on my back before the words have left my mouth. The air whooshes out of my lungs, but he stands and stares down at me with a heated look that is in danger of making me throw caution to the wind. I can’t. Not with him. Ever. It’s self-preservation. He would wreck my body, then my heart.
“Look up,” he demands, feeding my words back to me. He leans his shoulder against the bottom post and folds his arms.
My gaze is pulled to the mirror. My dark hair fans out across the navy sheets, and being manhandled by Hunter has my cheeks flushed. He is strong but purposeful with it, conscious of this presence around me.
“Now imagine you are alone. Your hands graze the outside of your thighs, caressing the hem of my shirt as you follow the dip between your legs. Your heart beats faster. Your skin heats as you unbutton it slowly, revealing your naked breasts.”
My heart trips over itself as the image he’s painting plays out in my mind. My eyes fall on him, desperate to look away from my blown gaze. He raises a brow in challenge. “Eyes on the mirror, Eleanor.”
I swallow as my fingers twitch to do exactly what he’s describing. I drag my gaze back to the mirror. Outwardly, there’s not any indication of my heightened state. I long since learned to hide pleasure. It’s not something I’ve been able to break; only when I’m alone can I let myself feel excitement and pleasurein the act of sex. It’s why I’m seeing Gail. I know, deep down, it’s not necessarily my partner’s fault. It’s also why I’ve avoided Hunter like he’s carrying the plague; there’s a barely restrained wildness in his gaze, desperate to sweep me under. I cannot fall. There is no room in my world for a partner. Especially him.
“Concentrate on my voice, Eleanor. Wherever you went, come back to me.” Dangerous. My eyes flutter closed. “Candlelight flickers around the room, glints off the piercings as my shirt falls open.”
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth. Damn. He noticed those? When?
“You tease yourself, tugging at the metal until it causes your core to clench. You’re so wet, your body begs to be stretched and filled. Your hand drifts down and skims the outside of your lace panties, feeling your heat and how your clit has begun to swell and throb.”
My insides tighten. Oh. My. God. No. I cannot get turned on from his words alone.
“Open your eyes, Eleanor. Look at yourself.”
My eyes flick open, and I stare at the woman in the mirror. My lips are parted, legs open slightly, and my hand is resting under the shirt on my stomach. He’s not dangerous. He’s lethal.
“Now, tell me you don’t find it sexy to stare at yourself getting off.”
My fist clenches under the shirt. He’s right. I didn’t see it before, but I can one hundred percent understand the appeal now.
“You are the only woman to be invited into my personal space. The only woman to have eaten a meal in my kitchen. The only one to have ever laid on my bed. I don’t lie, and I don’t exaggerate.”
He shoves off the post and unfolds his arms. He steps towards me, and I freeze like a deer caught in headlights.Don’t kiss me. Please, don’t kiss me.
His hands come down on either side of my head, and he smirks like he can hear my thoughts. I’m not trapped physically, but I don’t think I’ve ever been looked at like this. Like he wants to covet me, treat me like I’m fragile, but at the same time, devour me until all I can think of is more. Harder. Longer. Faster.
He drags in a breath and licks his lips, his eyes molten in the low light. “It’s driving me fucking wild not knowing what they look like. Hoops? Bars? Color? If you had any mercy, you would put me out of my misery so when I’m fisting my cock tonight and staring up at the mirror, reminding myself of what you look like splayed out on my bed, I can get as close to the facts as possible.”
I suck in a breath, my heart racing so hard I swear he can hear it. It’s a good thing he doesn’t know where else I’m pierced—he might lose his mind. “And the tattoo wrapped around your thigh disappearing under my shirt. What is it? Where does it end? I’m going to think about running my tongue over every curve of ink as I wet my palm and stroke myself, slow but hard, exactly how I will fuck you.”
This. Man. His dirty talk is going to set me on fire.
“Stop,” I whisper, my resolve dissolving under the heat of his gaze. I can’t be reduced to my baser instincts. Not with him. Panic thrums through my veins, warring with my arousal. I am always in control, and he’s shattering it with promises of soul-searing pleasure.
His eyes skim over my face, taking in everything I can’t put into words. I feel naked and exposed in a way I’ve never been before.
“Stop what? Telling you how fucking gorgeous you are? How I can’t stop fantasizing what you would look like falling apart onmy bed? How I would watch everything you do to yourself, so I can bring you over the edge again and again?”
“Yes. All of that.”
His lips twitch as he leans down, his mouth at my ear. “What do you sound like when you come, Eleanor? Are you quiet? Do you cry out the name of the man giving you pleasure, or do you roar like a lioness?”
“Definitely not the middle one.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Fuck.
He freezes, pulling back to capture my gaze with his. “Never?”
