“No.”
He smiled, as handsome and unflustered as ever. I wanted to bite him again for being so amused at me, but his hands found the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head.
I would have unleashed a few sarcastic thoughts, except his mouth was at my collarbone before I could, tracing lower with unhurried focus. I pressed my hand against the tent post behind me.
His hair was soft under my other hand, then—as his mouth latched on to one spot on my throat and my back arched—my fingers tightened in his hair. I murmured, “You’ve been thinking about this.”
“Longer than is useful,” he confirmed, his lips moving against my skin. His warm hand teased up my skin, pulling my shirt up and then off.
His hand was on my breast, and I was not quite as sharp as usual in delivering an insult. “Even after—you perverse?—”
His hands were at the waist of my trousers. “Before and after and with very little breakduring.But I’m still angry.”
His hands stilled, checking in with me, and my palms slid over the rough callouses over his knuckles to urge him on.Yes. More.He pulled my pants loose and shoved them down, his big hand palming my ass, rough and needy, pulling me against him so that his thigh parted my legs. His mouth was urgent against mine.
I stumbled forward, pushing him down onto the bed, and he let me. He was so much bigger than I was, but he was pliant under my hands. He let me lay him out, let me straddle his lap. I ground against him, through my damp panties and his roughtrousers, feeling the solid length of heat through two layers of fabric.
He caught my hair in one hand and pulled me down, steadily, insistently, unyieldingly. His fingers wrapped in my hair, guiding my mouth to his. The two of us traded slow, teasing kisses as I kept my momentum, rubbing myself over him slowly and steadily.
His fingers pushed aside my underwear, pressing between my lips, and he let out a groan at finding me so wet.
“Wicked girl…”
He set a punishing rhythm against my clit, hard and fast, and I pressed myself down into his palm, wanting more of him. But then as heat gathered, as something tightened low in my belly, the sensation grew to be too much. I gripped his forearm, feeling the corded muscle ripple under my fingers as he kept chasing my release.
“No,” he murmured against my mouth. “I want you to come on my hand.”
“I want you inside me.”
His scoff of a laugh was something I felt through my own body. “You want to not owe me anything. Not even your satisfaction.”
He rolled us both over in one seamless move, his body carefully braced over mine; his thighs bracketed mine, and his elbow was pinned just over my shoulder. He was a cage of flesh and heat, his hot mouth pressing kisses against my lips and my throat.
My back arched, my hips rising toward his as his hand considered its relentless exploration. I was so close, my heels locking at the small of his back, my hips driving up to his hand, and he slid his thumb to the left, drawing it out, delaying my release.
“Come on, mortal. Endure a little longer.”
He captured my sound of protest with his mouth. He kept teasing me until I was wild with need, my head thrashing across the pillow. Then he thrust his fingers inside me at the same time as his thumb kept its time on my clit, his first two fingers pressing my wall at the exact place that turned me to liquid heat with every pump.
“I love feeling you squeeze around my fingers like you’re going to milk my cock later.”
“Fear,” I murmured into the hollow of his throat. “Please.”
His smile, lips brushing against my temple, was mean. “The one time you’re polite.”
He kept his pace on my clit, kept thrusting, and I shattered around his hand, calling his name.
When I collapsed back into the soft quilts, coming slowly back into reality from the haze of pleasure, my face felt hot from both orgasm and from the way I had all but screamed his name.
“Fear, do you think anyone…” I trailed off. I could not bear to ask if anyone had heard.
“Much of the camp, I would think,” he said mock-seriously, and I groaned.
“It’s a good thing. People will believe you love me.” His voice had turned to that cool, polished, amused version. Charming, on the face of it. “It’s the most convincing you’ve been.”
My clit was still throbbing and raw, my legs wrung out and weak. But something had shifted between us, and I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he had just suddenly remembered that he hated me after a momentary distraction with my lips on his.
I rolled onto my side and slid beneath the blankets, and he did the same.
