Page 22 of Shark’s Pride

“No. Why would you think that?”

“The gifts, for one thing. You said you came here to thank me.”

He crawled up my body and hooked his fingers into the elastic band at my hips. Apparently, even if I was there out of some sense of indebtedness, he was going to collect my payment.

“Good Christ. I’ve been dying to see your pussy again, Abbi. To touch you…taste you…”

“Sebastian…”

Just like that, my voice was nothing but a whisper. Bas didn’t let my husky need go unanswered. He bent in, shadowing my body with the carved grandeur of his, before dipping his head and taking my mouth again. Our kiss started sweetly but intensified quickly. I squirmed beneath him, my blood heating and my core aching. My lust swelled from the second his erection pressed into my belly. He was already so thick and hot, and as the kiss intensified, I bucked up, silently pleading for more friction from him…

Meaning I was not a happy camper when he pulled away instead.

“Bas!”

“Ssshhh.”

He grabbed the bottom of my T-shirt. With one quick motion, he ripped straight up the middle of the cotton. His powerful stare fixed on mine as he tore my bra away too. A gorgeous growl left him as my breasts spilled free.

“Hmmm.” His low vibration was like a direct caress on my clit, making me shiver all over. He sat back on his heels and surveyed me, letting me view all the hunger painted across his face.

“You look so fucking perfect in my bed, Abbigail.” He stared a few moments more before leaving said bed with a graceful swing of muscles. He strolled over to a dresser, leisurely deposited his watch into a drawer, and took out something else. My view was hampered by the pillow nest, but I hoped like hell he was returning with condoms. I needed to feel him inside me. The ache was immeasurable.

“Bas…”

“Ssshhh, baby.”

“Come back to me. What are you doing?”

I sat up fully so I could see him. At the same moment, he turned back to face the bed.

With his pants dropped.

A weighted breath rushed out of me. Couldn’t be helped. Oh yes, his penis was as stunning as I remembered. And now it was nearly within my reach…

As he approached the bed, he fisted himself. He didn’t stop when I gave him the full attention of my gaze. My sigh transformed into a greedy moan as I watched his confident fingers pleasure his swollen flesh.

I needed more. I needed him.

But at the same time, I was still terrified of both. Of turning myself completely over to him. This passion wasn’t going to be like our first time. Now I knew how good he was going to make everything. And how much more addicted I’d be to it. How I’d have to fight being completely drowned by it.

“Touch them.” His dictate was my salvation, reconnecting me to the sizzle of my body instead of the fear in my head. He nodded toward my chest. “Your perfect tits…” His voice grew rougher as he stretched out each descriptor. He also lengthened and intensified each pull on his flesh, coaxing a perfect white pearl to the slit on his cockhead. “Pinch them for me, Abbigail.” He paused, watching with narrowed eyes, before giving the next direction. “Now twist them. Fuck, yesss.”

But as he hissed it, his face contorted and his shoulders tensed. He reached down to brutally squeeze his balls.

“Yes?” I challenged, trying yet failing to bring some lightheartedness. “Wh-Why don’t I quite believe you?”

Bas tipped his head. “You don’t believe there can be pleasure in pain, Little Red?” He released himself, sliding those stunning fingers up my body and over my left nipple. Without pause, he pinched the pulsing bud and then scraped across it with his thumbnail. “I do. One hundred percent,” he murmured. “Now more than ever…because that’s what every second away from you has felt like.”

For long seconds, I couldn’t formulate a reply. My attention was sucked in, centered on the delicious stabs of pain he brought with every tug and scratch to my nipple. When he added his other hand, doing the same thing to my other breast, I could barely remember what words were.

But like a roller coaster breaching the top of the highest hill, there was nothing we could do to stop it. I accepted that now. Happily. “It won’t happen again,” I whispered, cupping one of his cheeks.

He kissed me again. This time, not as a sweeping invasion but a tender possession.

His lips were slow and sensual, prodding and patient. Every ministration coaxed me into a thicker, beautiful fog. It had to be the truth, since I only half-registered the crinkle of foil and the slick of latex as he sheathed himself. Somewhere, Lady Irony had to be laughing her head off. Look at us: the eager sexual newb and the lothario who could glove up one-handed. There was an epic joke waiting to happen here, but I didn’t care about the punch line. All that existed in this moment was him.

All that gave me air were his words, whispered as he lingered his lips along mine. “Christ Almighty. I need to fuck you, Abbigail.”