Page 81 of Reckless: Chaos

His hands move to his zipper with deliberate slowness. Each movement feels calculated to drive me insane, to make my fingers itch against the wall with the need to touch.

“Getting impatient?” He smirks as I shift restlessly. “Good. I want you desperate. Want you thinking about this moment every time you consider running.”

His pants join the rest of our clothes, and my mouth goes dry. He’s gorgeous—all lean muscle and barely contained power. Hiscock strains against black briefs, a damp spot already forming where the head presses against the fabric.

“See something you like?” He palms himself through the cotton, and I have to bite my lip to keep from begging. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking you’re still wearing too many clothes.”

“Am I?” His thumb hooks in the waistband of his briefs. “Maybe I should keep them on. Make you wait even longer.”

“Please,” the word slips out before I can stop it.

“Please what?” He steps closer, close enough that I can feel his heat but not quite touching. “Be specific.”

“Please let me see you.”

“Better.” He slides the briefs down torturously slow. “But I think you can do better than that.”

“Please.” My voice comes out rough with need. “I want to touch you.”

“Not yet.” He kicks the briefs aside, then steps close enough that his cock brushes my stomach. “First, you’re going to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you. In detail.”

Heat floods my cheeks, but the command in his voice brooks no argument. “I want...”

“Yes?” His hand returns to my throat, thumb stroking over my racing pulse. “Tell me.”

“I want you inside me.” The words come easier as his other hand traces patterns on my hip. “Want you to fuck me until I can’t remember why I ever thought about leaving.”

His grip tightens fractionally. “Continue.”

“Want you to mark me up, make me yours.” Each admission makes his eyes darker. “Want to feel you for days.”

“Good girl.” He rewards me with a brush of his fingers between my thighs. “And how do you want it? Soft?” His touch turns feather-light. “Or hard?” His fingers press more firmly, making me gasp.

“Both. Everything. Please?—”

“Patience.” He withdraws his hand entirely. “You’ll get what you need when I decide you’re ready for it. Now spread your legs wider.”

I comply immediately, earning another stroke of his thumb over my pulse.

“Perfect.” His free hand slides up my inner thigh. “Keep them just like that. Don’t move unless I tell you to.”

His fingers find me again, testing how wet I am. “Still so ready for me. But I don’t think you’re desperate enough yet.”

He drops to his knees suddenly, and my breath catches. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open.

“Keep those hands on the wall,” he reminds me before pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. “If you move them, I stop. If you try to rush me, I stop. Understand?”

“Yes,” I manage, though my voice shakes.

“Yes what?”

Heat floods me at his tone. At what he wants me to say. “Yes... sir.”

His approval rumbles against my skin. “Good girl. Now let’s see how long you can follow orders.”

The first swipe of his tongue makes my knees buckle, but his grip keeps me steady. He takes his time, alternating between light teasing licks and firm strokes that make me see stars. Every time I get close, he backs off, keeping me on the edge of pleasure.

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