I’m trapped beneath him, every nerve exposed. My oversized T-shirt has ridden up my thighs. His gaze drops, zeroing in on my chest. My nipples strain against the thin cotton shirt as his eyes narrow.
He stole a kiss before. He watched me touch myself earlier. But this goes further. This is a line we cannot cross.
But my body ignores all of it. It arches. It aches. It gives him permission my mind won’t.
"Beautiful," he says. "I've been imagining for years, you underneath me, just like this."
A surge of fury cuts through the haze of heat. I twist beneath him, jerking at my wrists, but his grip only tightens, locking me in place.
“You don’t get to do this,” I snap, trying to yank free again. “Get off me.”
His eyes flare. Not with surprise. With satisfaction. He’s wanted a fight, and now he has one.
“Not until you’re honest with yourself, kitten.”
He shifts, pressing his hips into mine, and I feel every inch of him. I bite back a gasp, furious at my body’s reaction. He rocks his hips again, slow and unforgiving.
I turn my face away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another sound, but my body arches against him anyway.
He leans in, mouth brushing my ear. “Keep fighting me, kitten. I like it when you make me work for it.”
And the worst part?So do I.
He grinds into me again, rougher this time. “Now open your mouth.”
My eyes snap to his. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He releases one of my wrists, hooking his thumb in the waistband of his sweatpants. “Open that pretty mouth for me, kitten.”
The command hits like a slap, and suddenly I understand exactly what he wants. I’m not some obedient little toy.
“If you think I’m going to suck your dick just because you said so, you’re dumber than you look.”
He stills, like he’s deciding whether to be pissed or turned on. Probably both.
“You want to play games? Fine. But you’re already soaked for me.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m yours for the taking,” I snap, wrenching my other hand free and shoving at his chest. “You don’t get to control me.”
"You want to win that client, don't you?" he continues, his voice taking on a harder edge. "Then be a good little kitten and do what I say. Because I can make you look really good out there. Or I could make you look really, really bad."
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. The fog of lust evaporates in an instant. My body’s still humming from his touch, but now my blood runs hotter for an entirely different reason.
I shove at his chest, barely moving him. “Don’t you dare threaten me, you manipulative asshole.”
His eyes glint as if he expected the fight. Maybe even wanted it.
But then he frees his cock from his sweatpants, and every coherent argument dies on my lips.
He's huge. Thick and long and absolutely perfect, with veins mapping the length of him that make my mouth water. But what steals my breath completely is the silver ring pierced through the head, a piece of jewelry that's so unexpected, so deliciously dirty, that I gasp.
"Like what you see?" he taunts, wrapping his hand around himself and stroking once, slowly. The piercing catches the moonlight, winking at me like a challenge.
He grabs my hips and yanks me down the bed, forcing me flat against the mattress. My arms scramble for balance, but he’s already moving, climbing over me.
Then he straddles my chest.
And suddenly his cock is right there. Inches from my mouth. My brain short-circuits, overloaded by the sheer size of him, the obscene beauty of what he’s offering.