His words echoed in my mind. I mattered to him. Deeply. That meant he cared.
It meant he felt something for me.
My heart pounded in my chest as I reached up a hand to touch his cheek, our eyes locking. He hadn’t finished his sentence, but I didn’t care. He’d said enough.
I pulled his face down toward me, closed my eyes, and kissed him, parting my lips just enough to invite him in deeper, moaning softly when his tongue found mine.
Stefan never hesitated, taking control of the kiss as if he had been waiting for it.
I knew this surrender would be my downfall, that this could destroy me, but I didn’t care. How could I when he kissed me the way he did? When we fit so perfectly together?
I opened wider, letting his tongue thrust deeper, letting myself freefall.
Being with Stefan like this, the rest of world—all of our problems, all of our fights, all of our disagreements—seemed to fade into nothingness. All I could focus on was him and the way his tongue fucked my mouth, the way my core was turning to liquid, hot and needy.
His hands tangled in my hair, his fingers tightening there, forcing my head back so he could trace his tongue down my throat. It had been so long since he had touched me this way, tasted me this way, and now I was greedy for more. Greedy for everything.
I gasped as he bit me, gently and then less gently, his tongue soothing each mark that he was surely leaving on the sensitive skin of my neck. He was marking me, claiming me, and I couldn’t get enough.
I arched against him, needing to feel more of him, needing his entire body to be pressed against mine. I wanted him to dominate me. To take me.
He pinned my arms to the wall above my head. I panted, gazing up at him hungrily.
“You’re mine,” he growled.
“Yes,” I could barely gasp as his entire body trapped me against the wall. He rolled his hips against mine, his cock pressing into me, and I moaned with need. I was wet and ready for him, and had been all night, even if my mind had tried to deny the truth.
He looked down at the way my breasts were squeezed together and let out a low groan.
“You wore this slutty little dress for me, didn’t you?” he asked, dragging his finger along the low neckline, making me shiver at his touch. “Tell me,” he ordered.
“I wore it for you,” I gasped, barely recognizing the sultry rasp of my own voice.
“This is all for me.” He slid his hand down, cupping my breast harshly. “Say it.”
“It’s all for you,” I confirmed, straining against my pinned wrists, wanting him to touch me more. Loving how rough he was being.
There was no one like him. No one else who knew what I wanted, who understood my desires the way that Stefan intuitively did.
He shoved the cap sleeves of my dress down, exposing my taut nipples, which were tingling against the cool air and begging to be touched. Tasted. Bitten. Lowering his head, Stefan did exactly that, swirling his hot, wet tongue over the hard crest of each nipple before dragging his teeth along them, making me cry out with sheer bliss.
His hand slid lower, down to my hip, before curving around to cup my ass, pulling me even harder against his cock. There were too many clothes between us. I couldn’t stand it.
“What are you wearing under this?” Stefan demanded, palming my ass.
I shook my head, wanting him to touch me, wanting him to fuck me. I was so aroused by him that I could barely speak.
“Tell me,” he demanded.
“Nothing,” I gasped as his hand slid lower to the hem of my dress.
“You dirty little whore,” he murmured in my ear before whipping the fabric up and plunging his fingers inside me. “You’re so wet for me.”
“Yes,” I cried out, too-hot and desperate now. I was pinned against the wall, my expensive pink dress bunched at my hips, my breasts and everything below the waist completely exposed to Stefan. I wanted him to finger me hard, but his hand stayed still, making me squirm.
“Does my kitty cat like that?” he said, his voice low and dangerous as he pumped once, twice, then stopped.
“Mm hmm.” I was losing my mind. I needed more. “Please,” I begged, opening my legs wider. “More. I need it.”
