Page 65 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
“I doubt you could afford it.”
His smile widens. His hands follow the direction of his gaze, and he cups my breasts, running his thumbs back and forth over my exquisitely sensitive nipples. He watches as I bite my lip.
He whispers, “You like that?”
“Yes.”
I can tell he’s pleased by how quickly I answered. And that I didn’t try to lie, or hide. He gently pinches both my nipples. When my lips part in pleasure, he pinches a little harder, and I moan, enjoying the feel of his big, rough hands.
“You like that, too.”
It isn’t a question. He’s talking to himself, watching me as he continues to fondle my breasts, alternating between stroking his thumbs over my nipples, pinching them, and squeezing the fullness of the globes. Inside me, he’s still rock-hard. A tiny contraction in my core makes him pull in a quick breath.
He sits up and wraps his arms around me, which drives his stiff cock even deeper inside.
“And that,” I whisper, slowly rocking my pelvis. He drops his head and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. I close my eyes.
When he sucks harder, using his teeth, I arch and shudder. He pushes my torn blouse over my shoulders and off my arms, breaks away briefly to pull his own shirt over his head and toss it aside, and then quickly goes back to lavishing my breasts with attention.
“And your skin,” I breathe, running my open hands over the muscles in his back, shoulders and arms. His skin is like silk, flawlessly smooth and hairless. I’m losing myself again, drowning in the pleasure of him. Of us, the way we fit together.
I change the motion of my hips from a rocking one to a slow up-and-down slide. Parker groans against my breast.
“Ride that cock, baby,” he says roughly, his tongue flicking my nipple. “It’s yours. Ride it.”
It’s mine. It’s mine. Yes, yes, it’s all mine.
I don’t realize I’ve spoken aloud until he agrees via a grunt of approval.
I push him down so he’s flat on his back. Then I run my hands all over his chest and stomach, admiring the sculpted muscles. I reach down behind us and circle his cock with my fingers, squeezing and stroking as I take him in and out, my own wetness slipping between my fingers.
With steady pressure, Parker strokes my clit with his thumb as I ride him. He wraps the other hand around my hip. He watches me all the while, his look intense and unwavering, his eyes taking in everything on my face.
And I’m giving him everything. I’m letting him see exactly what I’m feeling, how good he feels, how much I like it, everything. I’m past caring. Past caution.
I never want this to end.
Suddenly he grabs both my hips, rolls out from under me, flips me onto my stomach, hikes my ass in the air, braces one arm against the mattress, wraps the other around my waist, and plunges deep inside me from behind.
I cry out. He starts to fuck me hard, holding me in place with that arm around my waist, his breath hot and rough at my ear.
“Are you mine, Victoria?”
My face half buried in a pillow, I moan.
“Say it.”
Thinking I know what he wants, I whisper, “My pussy’s yours.”
“Not your pussy, baby. You. Say it.”
I don’t. I won’t. This is one line I will never, ever cross. If he wants dirty talk, he can have it. If he wants my body, obviously he can have that, too.
But he can never have me. Not for real.
Not again.
I turn my face to the pillow. Parker slows, runs a hand up my back, fists that hand in my hair. He gently pulls my head back until I’m looking at him, my neck craned to the side.
