Page 23 of Lonely
His top slid over his head, revealing stretches of olive skin. I took in every inch. There was a mole just below his collarbone and a small silvery scar along his ribcage.
He didn’t fight, but his jaw tightened when they shoved him down and strapped his wrists into the cuffs.
“That’s all,” I said, and the nurses dipped their knees before leaving.
Silence settled over the room. Carter breathed harshly, his gaze hard and unwavering.
I liked it.
I liked having his full attention, especially when he was at my mercy and helpless. But it was the first time I’d seen him fully naked.
A glorious sight, truly.
I took my time, starting at his bare feet and dragging my gaze up his shins, knees, and thick thighs. His soft cock was just as big as I remembered, resting on his lower abdomen.
I followed the dark trail of hair up to his belly button, then skirted the ridges of muscle, stopping at one of his small, pebbled nipples.
There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, just lean muscle.
I stepped closer and he fisted his hands, veins bulging along his forearms. I paused while his chest rose with a slow, deliberate breath.
His knuckles went white. His eyes were like steel. But he didn’t tell me to stop when I pressed my palm to his chest, his heartbeat pounding beneath it.
Warm. Alive.
Mine.
Our eyes clashed, and his gaze turned cold.
My fingers brushed against his nipple and he sucked in a breath, watching me closely as I pinched and rolled the sensitive bud.
In my periphery, I saw his cock slowly fill with blood and grow hard and thick.
After one of the nurses returned with the disease testing kit, I swabbed his skin and then grabbed his arm, sinking the needle into the vein at the crook of his elbow.
A sharp and sudden hiss escaped him as his muscles tensed, but he stayed silent, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
The syringe filled with his deep-red blood. I slid it out and handed it to the nurse, who left the room.
Once again, we were alone.
Carter kept staring at the ceiling, refusing to give me the attention he knew I craved.
But when I grabbed his cheeks and ordered him to look at me, he finally gave in.
His eyes, dark as pine and lit with a quiet, smoldering rage, made my skin buzz.
I wanted his attention on me. Always. Nowhere else.
His cock looked painfully engorged. Pumped full of blood and desperate for release.
I wanted to touch him there, but instead I bent down and flicked his nipple with my tongue while he struggled against the wrist restraints.
He stopped breathing, eyes fixed on me as I swirled it again.
A breathy curse slipped from his lips as his jaw clenched and his body went taut beneath me
“I liked how you looked at me earlier,” I said, but I didn’t touch him. Not yet. “You wanted to hurt me. Do you fantasize about it? Hurting me?”
