Page 45 of Shark’s Pride

Reaffirming the goal, even to myself, was my new motivator.

Because I knew—with ridiculous confidence—how to blow the doors off a woman’s psyche.

I started by reaching back in, just by the few inches required, to deliver one quick flick between her breasts. With that, the white cotton fell away.

“Jesus, woman.” Drinking in her naked form was more intoxicating than closing a high-stakes business deal. That was the best rush I could think of. Before meeting her, at least.

Now, standing in front of her, taking note of every detail, I was more totaled than ever. Her damp, flame-red waves. Her gorgeous, graceful neck. And dear God, all that flushed skin, dusted with the freckles I longed to connect with my tongue—along with one very perfect mole just to the left of her navel. I had already discovered that darling dot while making my way toward her pussy before. Though I was single-focused at the time, a mental image of her unique little mark popped back into my mind at the oddest times—like during quarterly sales reports reviews or listening to Vela’s details about her latest boy band obsession.

Needless to say, no way I could look and not touch for another second. Regarding that mole or any other delectable part of her.

I eagerly coaxed Abbi’s mouth back open, slamming her with a fresh and forceful kiss. I held her there, palming the back of her head with one hand while using the other to stroke her collarbones in continuous, sensual slides. I kissed and petted her neck, shoulders, and arms—all the while ignoring her breasts, and doing it quite intentionally.

Finally, a moan slipped from her between our thorough kisses.

“Please, Bas,” she blurted. “God, please!”

“Please what?” I murmured. “What is it, baby? What do you need from me?”

“You’re teasing me, and you know it!”

I rose far enough so she watched me point to myself, slathering on mock disbelief. “Me? I would never do such a thing.” I dared her to refute me by hardening my features—and then determinedly nudging my way between her legs. A gasp escaped her as I trailed my index finger from the hollow at her throat, down her sternum, and then lower.

“You’re lying,” Abbigail accused in a whisper. “And you’re doing it terribly.”

“Abbigail.” I trapped her gaze in mine and savored her sharp inhalation of response. “I’m about to blow your mind.”

She instantly picked up the warning in my words and gave me a sexy hitch of her breath to prove it. With an answering smirk, I continued the pursuit toward her sex.

I already claimed a minor victory as soon as she sat up higher to watch my progress until I stopped mere inches from the soft, inviting cleft of her need. Though her heat was tangible, already beckoning to my fingers, I asked, “You want to be filled, Abbigail? Here?”

Her sighing response wasn’t of much consequence. I already knew the answer—confirmed from the second I ran a light touch over her swollen pussy. She jumped as though I’d Tased her.

“Easy, baby.”

I ran my finger deeper through her wetness. She moaned but sank back, resting onto her bottom and leaning her shoulders against the large mirror. To make her position more comfortable, I removed my towel and positioned it behind her. “Better?” I murmured.

“Yes. Thank you. But you know we could just go—”

“Hush, baby.” My command, as things like that went, was gentle. Not the case with the swift swat I delivered to her mound. At once, she lurched from the invisible Taser again. Just as instinctively, I clamped her thighs with spread fingers.

“Oh!” she yelped.

“Be a good girl,” I admonished, dropping to my knees in front of her. I spread her wider, worshiping the tender pink folds of her slit with my greedy gaze. “Stay still, Abbigail. We don’t need to end the night with a trip to the ER.” Her ass was perched at the edge of the counter, and too much squirming would land her on the marble floor. But the sight was amazing. Her succulent cunt contrasted with the hard and shiny countertop. Perfect.

My dick was throbbing, an urgent reminder of my rising desire. The effort was boosted by how she responded so well—so naturally—to my dominance. Verbally binding her with my instructions clearly heightened her arousal. With every passing second, her pussy pulsed and gleamed in new and captivating ways.

I rewarded her—and myself, to be honest—for the compliance with a full swipe of my tongue up the center of her folds. She trembled and sighed as fresh wetness slicked her entrance. The taste combined with her potent feminine fragrance to arouse all my senses.

Even the music on the air conspired to help my cause. The smooth tracks I’d selected were finished, and my phone automatically clicked to a new collection of songs—all chosen specifically to fuck to. Oh, hell yes. Throbbing bass lines, passionate lyrics, and deep, sensual melodies added another layer to our growing stimulation.

My pulse sped up to the new beat as my instincts zeroed in on Abbi’s spicy taste. Within seconds, it became the center of my existence. I needed more. I’d obsessed about her all day. Even through the seemingly endless police interview, my mind wandered back to her. She was a fire inside me. A pull on my body. A call to my mind. An ache in my soul. But most of all—best of all—the awakening of her sensuality. Her outward shyness but the burning passion that constantly overrode it. The bravery with which she drove past it, driving to satiate her natural needs.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Abbigail.” I spread her pussy open with my fingers. “So wet for me, baby. So ready for everything I’m going to do to you.”

“Yessss,” she sobbed out. “Oh yes, Sebastian. It feels so good. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

“No, baby,” I assured her. “I’m not stopping now, girl. Not until you come for me. Maybe twice.”