“Lucas…” Her voice has gone thin. “Lucas, please—”
I drag my tongue up the center of her in a slow stroke, and the rest of her sentence collapses into a cry she muffles against the back of her own hand. I do it again. I do it until her thighs are shaking against my ears, until her hand has dropped from her mouth and gone back into my hair. Until her hips are chasing my mouth and her breath is coming in broken sobs that have nothing to do with crying.
I do not let her come.
I stop when she is right at the edge, and she makes a sound of pure outrage that goes straight through me. Her hand yanks my head back so she can look at me.
“Lucas!” Her voice cracks. Her eyes are wild. “If you don’t—”
I crawl up her body and, straddling her, I rip my own shirt off over my head. Before it hits the floor, her hands are on me, raking down my chest, my ribs, my stomach. Her nails leave trails of heat in their wake.
I pin both her hands above her head with one of mine. The other shoves my trousers down off my hips.
“Look at me.” I press her wrists harder into the pillow. “Sienna. Eyes.”
Her gaze snaps up to meet mine.
Her chest is heaving. Her mouth is swollen and parted. There is a flush on her throat that disappears around the curve of her breast. She is glaring at me with so much fury and so much desire, each layered on top of the other, that I cannot tell where one ends and the other begins.
I push into her with a long, slow thrust.
Her head tips back. Her body bows up under me. The sound that tears out of her is half a cry and half a curse, and I drop my mouth to her throat to feel it vibrate through her skin. She is so tight around me, I cannot breathe. So hot. The bond between us is straining at its leash in a way it never has before, pulling tight in my chest, every one of my nerves aware of every one of hers.
I hold there. I can’t move yet. If I move, I will not last, and I refuse to be done with her this fast.
She tries to buck up under me. I pin her hip down with my free hand.
“No.” My voice is ragged. “You don’t get to rush this. Not after what you just said to me.”
Her breath hitches. Her eyes flash.
She squeezes around me. Hard. On purpose.
A growl rips out of my chest, and my hips snap forward before my brain catches up. The cry she gives me is so wrecked, I almost spill right now, right here.
“Oh, you want to play that game.” I drop my mouth to her ear and bite down on the lobe sharply enough to make her gasp.
I let go of her wrists. I get one hand under her hip and lift it, changing the angle, and drive into her with everything I’ve got.
She arches high off the bed. Her hands fly to my back. I feel her nails dig in at my shoulder blades and scratch downward, eight burning lines. I welcome them. I want her marks on me. Iwant to feel the sting tomorrow under my shirt and remember exactly where her hands were.
I move inside her, and she meets me thrust for thrust. The headboard knocks against the wall. Her legs come up and lock around my hips, her body driving up against mine like it is settling a debt with me. She squeezes around me again, viciously, and I bite down on her shoulder in retaliation, mindful of the new scar. She keens into my hair.
“Who’s inside you?” I rasp out.
She turns her head to one side.
“No.” I slide my free hand into her hair and drag her face back to mine. Her gaze burns into mine. “Look at me, Sienna. Whose cock is fucking you right now?”
“Yours.” The word escapes her between gasps. Her nails sink into my back again. “You, you, fuck you, you.”
“Whose name are you going to say when you come?”
She bares her teeth at me. Her hips drive up against mine.
I slow down. I pull almost all the way out of her and stop. She makes a sound of such rage that I almost laugh.
“Whose name, Sienna?”
