Page 90 of Fixation
He bends over, lifting my clothes to my breasts. On the inside, I’m going wild. Growing needier by the second when his lips find my stomach. He leans over me, as close as he can get, kissing my sensitive skin. Licking me.
He’s making love to my navel. His cock is railing my mouth.
Too much. Of him. Of this.
Too much desire swirling inside me.
Shutting it out is impossible.
A moan escapes me.
A moan that, without words, tells him he’s driving me crazy.
That I’m awake.
“Harper?”
I gulp around his cock and he throbs in my mouth. He groans, sending both chills and desire through me.
“Fuck.” He pulls himself out of me.
I hear him tucking himself in.
My heart in my throat, I dare to open my eyes and face him.
He glowers, eyes locked onto mine, dark and full of want.
I can’t say a word. I just stare at him, my spit trickling along my cheek. Before it reaches my eye, he rubs his thumb over it. Sucks it into his mouth in that hot, unhinged way of his.
Shame scalds my skin. And desire. Fucking my mouth while I sleep is wrong, and I’m just as wrong for missing his cock.
I don’t want to feel it. I don’t.
I’m still a prisoner.
“Go away,” I whisper, my head beginning to pound from hanging upside down for so long.
“You’ve been awake for this.” He’s in his scrubs like I thought, arms crossed over his chest.
His muscles flex, his eyes flashing.
My stupid gaze lingers on every inch of him longer than it should.
I have a sneaking suspicion that he realizes what the sight of his body and his tattoo do to me. He uses that, too, to manipulate me.
It’s working.
“Go. Away.”
“Poor little patient.” His expression turns cruel. His lips twist into a snarl. “It hurts to be proven wrong, doesn’t it?”
“What are you even talking about?” My voice is hoarse from sleep. From the drugs. From having my mouth fucked, as considerate as he’s been. “Wrong about what? I still want to get the hell out of here.”
“Lying doesn’t suit you.” Though the outline of his hard cock is evident in his scrubs, Anderson takes his time rearranging me back on the bed.
“I’m not lying.” I am kind of lying.
I’m wet between my legs. My nipples are sensitive. The fire in my lungs, I can’t ignore that.
