Page 43 of Guilty as Sin

I’m self-reliant, a woman readily capable of violence.

And that thought fills me with power.

“You’re your own person,” he agrees, prowling closer until he looms over me, his chest so broad he blocks out the light. “And you’re mine.”

And. A tiny word with unlimited possibility. In my head rush of power, the realization overwhelms me.

I can be both.

When Brady crushes his mouth to mine, I’m both shaken and desperate, both unguarded and hungry. My body ignites as he grips my waist. Even through my dress, his touch floods me with need. I want his skilled hands everywhere.

He grabs my ass to pull me roughly against him. The feel of his forceful tongue in my mouth triggers a rush of heat to my core. He presses his thigh against my pussy, and I can’t help myself as I grind against him, aching for friction.

He chuckles darkly as he pulls away, then spins me around to face the counter, the hard muscles of his body pinning me in place. I feel the swell of his cock against my ass, and my core clenches in anticipation.

I need it. I need him.

He moves his hands greedily down my dress, then hikes up my skirt, giving himself access to run his hand down the front of my panties. He chuckles again when he feels how wet I am, the cotton soaked through.

We both know I’m done for.

He yanks aside the fabric and plunges two fingers inside me. I moan as he works my pussy, his palm against my clit. When he scissors his fingers inside me, the feel of him stretching me is almost too much, and yet I need more.

I go breathless, slumping forward, but Brady clutches me to him. He curls his fingers inside me, stroking my inner spot until my muscles are ready to spasm.

Then he pulls out his fingers, and I’m suddenly hollow, so empty that I want to sob. I try to angle my hips back toward him, but he presses me down against the counter.

“Stay there,” he growls so dangerously I do as I’m told.

I hear a zipper, then fabric falling. God yes, I need him inside me. As I wait to feel his cock at my entrance, my pussy clenches around nothing, my shoved-aside panties leaving me bare.

Brady pulls down the top of my dress and bunches it around my waist. I shiver, so exposed to him. He unhooks my bra and tears it off, making a primal noise as he cups my breasts. He pinches my stiff nipples until I’m ready to scream.

Desperately I wriggle my hips, my pussy wanting him so badly it’s painful. But he only laughs, keeping me bent over so he can slap his cock on my ass, first one cheek, then the other, laying claim to me.

Please, I think. For the love of fuck, give it to me.

Instead he rests his hard cock on my lower back and returns his fingers to my pussy. I cry out in relief, but it’s not enough. He slicks his fingers in my juices, pumping them easily before rubbing my clit. He already knows just how to touch me, and he brings me close to cresting again, every muscle in my body tense before he pulls away.

I moan in desperation as he drags his wet fingers up my body, trailing them between my heavy breasts and up to my mouth. He pushes his fingers between my lips, and I suck them automatically, tasting how much I want him.

Then he bends his body over mine, his breath hot on my neck.

“Are you ready to beg for it?” He pulls his fingers from my mouth for me to answer.

I choke out a cry, incoherent words. My stubborn streak takes over, and I still can’t bring myself to say it. I swallow hard.

When I say nothing, Brady pulls back, his muscular chest lifting away and his cock sliding off my ass. He drifts one hand between my legs, lazily circling his fingers on my clit.

Within seconds I’m back on the brink, craving his cock inside me more than ever, but we both know he won’t fuck me until I beg. He keeps me on the edge, as if he could do this all day. My body tenses so much that I start quivering for release, and I can’t handle the built-up pressure for one second longer.

I try to dig deep into my stubbornness again, but this isn’t a matter of being stubborn anymore. This is pure need. I’m past acting petty, weaponizing spite for spite’s sake. I’m past my denial, a foolish lie that he didn’t believe anyway. It was a paper shield, and my aching want has blazed right through.

“Please, Brady,” I whisper, and he presses the slightest bit harder on my clit.

“Please what?”

“Please give me your cock.” My voice is ragged.