Page 9 of His Forbidden Obsession

“You really know how to tempt a man.” I nipped at his neck, and he whimpered and squirmed against me.

His body knew exactly what it wanted, even as he shook his head. “I… I don’t.”

I placed a finger over his lips. “Hush.” I let go of his throat, worked myself out of my jacket, then pulled my shirt over my head, not caring when studs went scattering. “I need to feel you against me.”

“Please.” He sounded fucking desperate, and I loved it.

I pressed our bodies together and shuddered at the intensity of the contact. I was used to being the one who drove other men to beg, to plead, to get on their knees, but right then, I would have said anything to keep this going.

Nikolai moaned. “You’re so big.”

I grinned down at him. “You’re right about that.”

“You make me…”

I gripped his chin and forced his head up. “Tell me. How do I make you feel?”

“Needy, hot. Please.”

“What do you want from me? Tell me.”

He shook his head. “I… can’t.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I… I need to come. I need… Please touch me. Please.” He whimpered, and I needed to hear that sound again and again.

I slid my hands up and down his sides. “Your skin is burning hot. You’re so ready to be fucked.”

“Yes. Please.”

I smiled down at him. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Everywhere.”

I gripped his waist tightly, and he opened his eyes and met my gaze. “Where, Nikolai?”

His teeth sank into his lower lip, and he didn’t speak.

I caressed his throat. “Here?”

“I… yes, but…”

“Where else?” He shook his head and closed his eyes again. “Keep your eyes open.”

“I can’t.”

He was going to learn a lot tonight about what he could do. “Do it.”

He looked at me again. I could see his pulse fluttering along the side of his neck. Mine. My mind yelled as I stared at him. I needed him to be mine.

Stop thinking like that. He’s a hookup, nothing more.

I knew that was how it had to be, but I didn’t like it. I was buzzing with energy that had to be released, preferably by fucking him, then punching his father in his lying face. “You can tell me anything.”

He shook his head. “I can’t say it.”

“You have to.” When he didn’t respond, I flicked my thumb over one of his nipples, then bent to draw it into my mouth. He panted and writhed, seeming not to know if he wanted me to stop or if he wanted more. “Ask.”