Page 38 of Black Sheep

And yet, barely a second after laying her flat, I’m crawling over her. Planting my hands on either side of her head. Pinning her down with my body. Long, shapely legs bracket mine. The soft, deep cradle of her thighs welcomes me to her false home. The flush of her skin. Wide, blue eyes no longer flat and dead. Each catalogue of her intoxicating attributes registers like a sniper’s shot to the head, and my cock hardens to stone even as my brain loses all function.

The rush of blood to my cock almost makes me groan. I swallow the sound because the time when I groaned for this woman is long gone.

Her breathing escalates, and she begins to wriggle beneath me. “Axel…”

I allow myself a smile. “I believe I can tell the difference now between you and the girl I thought I once knew. This…this is who you really are, isn’t it, Cleo? The devil’s whore pretending to be an angel?”

She stares at me, her perfect face framed by the rich, glossy mane spilling across my floor. “I was never an angel. How could I be after you—What…what are you doing?” she asks with a distinct screech, her hands attempting to push me away as I grip her hips and press into her.

The heat from her hands fires me up even higher.

Harder. I roll my hips until my cock is fully settled into the V of her thighs. Her eyes darken into a deep, bottomless blue.

“Rough sex,” I speculate. “Fuck, baby, if that was what you wanted, all you had to do was say. Do you know how difficult it was for me to hold back when I fucked you? How tough it was for me to stop from pounding that tight cunt every time you spread your thighs for me? You know how many dark fantasies I had about taking you so hard you would be sore for fucking days?”

She stills completely, the only movement her shallow breathing. “You didn’t…you weren’t…”

“Capable of it?” I laugh. “Are you one hundred percent sure about that? Think back. That night in the gazebo, after we were caught in the rain?”

Her breath hitches all over again. “Troy’s beach party. You…you were drunk. That was why we ended up there instead of your room…”

“I wasn’t drunk. I had one drink.” I lower my head until her delectable mouth is one inch from mine. “One single beer while you wriggled that sweet little ass in my lap for three hours straight. I couldn’t make it back to the pool house because my fucking balls were ready to explode. I wanted to teach you a lesson even though you had perfected the art of pretending to be so fucking fragile. And yet, tying your hands with your bra and securing your ankles to that post with my belt was so fucking easy, wasn’t it? You were extra wet that night, weren’t you? Whimpering while you pushed out that pretty little tush for me to ride, begging me to fuck you? How many times did you come that night?”

“I don’t remember,” she replies, her nostrils fluttering with agitation despite her cold voice. “Get off me.” She attempts to push me off again, but I’m nowhere near done. I lower myself onto my elbows. Our stomachs touch. Her breath shudders out.

“I do. Many, many times. So many you had cum dripping down your legs.”

Color surges into her cheeks. “If you say so.”

“It’s okay if you don’t remember, sweetheart. You passed out after that last time, after screaming your lungs out. I carried you back to my bed in the rain. You were out for hours. Then you woke up and pretended it hadn’t happened.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t as memorable as you thought,” she snipes.

If I wasn’t skating on the edge of madness, I would be amused. “It’s all in my head? That’s the defense you’re going with?”

“It’s the truth.”

I shift my stance to her left, lower my head, and take another heady dose of her scent. The animal prowling in me roars its approval then pummels me with its need to ravage. “What about a few days ago? You only needed a little push to get yourself off, didn’t you? What about right now? Are you going to deny you’re as wet as I know you are or is that all in my head too?”

Her gaze sweeps down and away, and her lips firm into a thin, mutinous line.

“Not gonna answer? I’ll find out for myself, shall I?”

Her rough gasp feathers my jaw as I capture both her hands and secure them above her head. I dislodge myself from between her thighs, ignoring my cock’s demented snarling at being denied, and stare down at her.

She attempts to move away. I clamp my hand to her hip.

The bottom half of her lingerie set is already riding her hip. A firm tug is all it takes for more of her lower half to be fully revealed.

Her curvy hips and smooth, toned legs fire up a savage hunger in my already boiling blood stream. Keeping my gaze on her face, I let my knuckles drift down the side of one thigh. A delicate shiver moves through her.

“Look at me, Cleo.”

She ignores me. I caress back up again. Her mouth slackens a touch, her breath expelling in the softest gush.

“Look. At. Me.”

Her gaze meets mine. Heated. Defiant.

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