“Still paying people for sex I see.”
He blinked in surprise. The low hanging fruit for him would’ve been to point out I was still letting people fuck me for money.
Instead, laughter lit his eyes. “Still a mouthy little slut.”
The words had their intended effect, and desire punched through me. He would’ve hesitated to say it before. When we’d first been together, it turned me on to imagine he was a prince I couldn’t say no to.
My prince was all grown up into a king.
I tried not to let him see how much it turned me on, tried to muster my dignity and flee before it was too late. “I’m leaving.”
As I reached to release the door, he said, “Stay.” There was a pause. “Pretend I’m someone else. Whoever you pictured the client was. Some uptight businessman or dickhead actor. You can put the blindfold back on if you want.” There was a longer pause and then his voice sounded raw. “Tell me you haven’t missed it, Maia.”
Fuck.
I stopped at the door, taking deep, angry breaths. I wasn’t just pissed at him. I was angry with myself for wanting him, for knowing all the reasons this was a terrible idea and still being unable to open the damn door and walk away.
Like the predator he was, he sensed my hesitation and seized on it, stalking across the plane to corner me. Even with nothing between me and an unlocked door, I was trapped.
He’d never needed bondage to hold me.
Zane leaned closer, snaking his arms down my sides to pull me back against him. The feel of those big, strong hands holding my hips, of his hardness at my back. The feel ofhimstripped away any willpower I had to reach for the handle.
His deep voice rumbled against my ear. “Tell me you’ve had better, Maia, and I’ll send you on your way.”
The memories assaulted me. The polite sex I’d had since felt like scratching an itch with mittens on.
I could hear the smile in his voice. “Tell me you’ve come so hard you cried.”
I couldn’t catch my breath, but now it wasn’t anger that had me panting. It was knee-buckling, bone-melting lust. The kind of lust that makes bad decisions seem inevitable.
I lost the battle I’d been fighting to stay silent and whimpered when he swept my hair to the side and kissed the nape of my neck.
Goosebumps skittered down my arms.
His mouth. How many nights had I touched myself thinking of that mouth? And now I could feel his lips lightly brushing my skin.
It wasn’t enough.
When I still didn’t say anything, he slowly eased the fabric of my skirt up, revealing an inch of skin at a time until he bared my panties, a tiny slip of black lace. He groaned and slid his hand into them, edging closer and closer to where I needed him. He stopped with his fingertips barely brushing the top of my pussy, pressing enough to feel how wet I was, but not enough to penetrate.
He grazed my neck with his teeth and I arched back, letting my head fall against his chest, begging for more as I bucked my hips and tried to fuck myself on his hand.
He wouldn’t let me.
He growled, “Tell me you don’t want it.”
This time he let me sink down onto his thick finger, thrusting it inside me. He pumped a few times, breathing just as heavily as I was.
He pulled his finger out and found my clit, using my wetness to slide back and forth over it in torturous strokes. Those clever guitarist’s fingers finding a steady rhythm and relentless pressure. My knees would’ve given out if he hadn’t been holding me up.
My breathing was frantic, desperation written in every little gasp as I got closer and closer to orgasm.
He knew.
The exact moment I was about to tip over that edge the bastard pulled his hand away.
He spun me to face him, stepping back and leaving me aching for what only he could give me.
