Page 108 of Isaac

Isaac's fingers ghost over my towel and it drops to the floor, surrendering the last of my barriers, the last shred of protection from his curse.

He nudges me backward, a quiet command I accede to willingly.

I give in.

I like this little pretend game. Like letting him think he’s in charge here but I’ve known this for a while now—his control in the bedroom is just a wall he’d build around himself. A wall I will destroy one day to get a better look at what’s really behind it.

Isaac’s hands grip my hips and we're moving. A collision course set toward the bed.

"Is this your way of saying you want more than just a tame make-out session today?" My words hush against the shell of his ear. My fingertips are lost in a sea of dark tangles at the back of his head. His hair has grown some, I notice. Such an insignificant detail. Yet, everything about him, every little change in these past few months stands out.

I tease his neck next, soaking up the sounds he’s making. The thready moans that fill the room when I brush my tongue over the old scar across his throat.

"It’s my way of saying I want your cock," he replies, voice tight. A strangled, needy declaration from a man who’s struggling to keep up the illusion of being in the lead.

He’s hard and writhing against me and my own cock is good and ready, standing at attention.

I spin us, shifting the trajectory. There's a hunger in me that wants more than just the press of sheets against skin tonight. I have to forget what happened. What he made me do.

In a move that's part playful rebellion, part raw need, I pivot us, pushing him back until Isaac's body hits the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling window. The entire city sprawls beneath us, unseeing and unaware, as my fingers trace their way to his slacks’ zipper, sliding them down in one fluid movement. My hand ventures further into his boxers, cupping his balls and his perfect rock-hard cock.

His head lolls back, colliding gently with the glass. He releases another moan, breathy and soft like a whisper on thewind. The kind of sound you’d never hear from Isaac Thoreau outside the bedroom. The kind of sound that will ruin his reputation.

I squeeze and twist him a little, wringing more noises from between his lips.

"Anyone ever told you how hot you sound?" I murmur against his skin while caressing the crook of his neck. My hand, still hidden in his boxers, strokes and teases his throbbing cock with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

He nudges me back and watches my face with those intense chocolate eyes while I continue to jerk him. The room pulses with the heat of our breaths.

"You’re the first one," he whispers, his chest heaving, his hair a mess and his face is all flushed.

I reach out to brush my thumb over his wet mouth.

He bats my wrist away only to lean in and claim my lips with his again and again until they are nearly bruised. Like an addict drawn to his favorite sin. It’s another one of his silent assertions that sears me down to my bones.

"Faster," he orders when we pull apart to get more air into our starving lungs.

I do as he says, increasing speed.

"Faster… Yeah… Right there… Fuck…"

His breath catches at the base of his throat, stuck before it shudders free. His body arches toward me, desperate for release. A garbled string of incoherent curses follow.

I’m so turned on, I can’t think straight anymore. I rub myself against his thigh while he fumbles clumsily with the buttons of his shirt. It’s messy. An absolute disaster.

His cock twitches in my palm, and I tighten my grip.

"You like that, huh?" I mutter, nibbling on his ear. "You like when I own your cock like this? Admit it."

His rebuttal drowns in the expanse between our bodies as he burrows his face into my neck, tracing moisture trails, and softly counters, "No one owns me, Hawk."

"I beg to differ." I squeeze him some more. He whimpers in response. "Stop trying to pretend you’re in control here." My hand slows down. The strokes are now measured, intended to keep him on the brink.

"Don’t you dare fucking stop," he manages to choke out between his gasps.

"Outside these walls, you can give the orders," I rasp, thumb swiping over the head of his erection. "But here... here you're mine to play with. Just admit it, Isaac."

"Play?" Isaac's laugh is half-moan, half-challenge.

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