Page 47 of A False Start
Griffin raises his eyes—dancing with flames and an utter lack of control—to mine. I love this expression on his face. I love what it does to me. We stare at each other for a few seconds, the sound of our mutual heavy breathing loud in my ears.
Something passes between us. A question. An answer. An agreement. And then his sinful lips latch on to my nipple, and I moan, letting my lashes flutter shut as I get lost in the feeling of his mouth on my body.
The way my body makes him lose control.
He pulls his hand free of my hair and uses it to yank down the opposite side of my shirt so that it props up both my tits for him.
“Fucking look at you, Wildflower.” His hands squeeze firmly, bordering on too firm, but then he pulls back, always brushing away a hard touch with a soft one. The perfect balance. “So fucking smooth and pretty.” He moves to the other breast, leaving the other nipple wet and achingly hard as the night breeze flows over my skin.
He sucks my nipple in and then lets it go with a loud pop before pulling a couple inches back and staring at my exposed breast like he’s having some sort of religious experience. “So willing. So eager to please.”
God. Damn.
I try to squeeze my thighs together to ease the throbbing between them, but he shoves his muscular leg between them, keeping me pushed up against the wall, and I grind myself on him instead.
The relief that motion gives me is addictive. I do it again, feeling delicious heat bloom at the base of my spine.
“Nadia.” He says my name like a threat. I sigh in pleasure, loving the way his deep voice rumbles around in his broad chest. It’s so intense with his shirt unbuttoned, I can almostseehis body vibrate when he does.
I swivel my hips, rubbing myself on him, getting lost in the sensation of being surrounded by him. Of holding his attention in this way.
His calloused fingers dig into my breast. “Do that again and I won’t be accountable for what I do next.”
My eyelids feel heavy, but I drag them up from his bare chest all the same. My tongue darts out, wetting the seam of my lips. And then I whimper, knowing I’m about to set him off and not really caring.
I look him dead in the eye and grind myself on him again.
“You’re impossible.” His voice is deadly quiet.
Then one hand shoots up, wrapping around my throat, pushing me against the wall. Firm, but gentle, completely in control. The other grips my bare breast as he clamps onto the skin there with his teeth.
“Ah,” I cry out, the bite startling me. But the pain doesn’t last. Not when he uses the hand on my throat to push me down onto his leg. And I let him. I surrender to the motion and feel my slick pussy sliding across damp panties.
I’m mindless withhim.
The way he manhandles me is like nothing I’ve known. I have experience, but none of it prepared me for Griffin Sinclaire.
“Are you going to come grinding on my leg, Nadia?” His words are almost taunting, but I have little time to think about them before he moves over and gives my other breast the same treatment.
The press of his teeth—it’s addictive. It’s savage and unhinged and out of control and makes me feel more alive than I ever have. More desired than I ever have.
When he removes his mouth to admire his handiwork, I let my eyes travel down over myself. My pink nails tangle in his messy hair, the perfect match for the marks glowing on the soft flesh of my breasts.
“Fuck,” I breathe out. “That’s hot. No one has ever bitten me before.”
He goes rigid in my hands. I swear he stops breathing. And then he’s drawing up, flying backward like someone shoved him away from me.
The hand that was just gripping me in the most delicious way wipes across his mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
He looks like he’s going to be sick. It’s like a switch flipped in him.
“I’m so fucking sorry.”
My heart rate ratchets up as I watch him spiral, my arms limp at my sides as I use the wall behind me to keep myself upright. All that arousal knits itself into regret.
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“God.” He swallows deeply, eyes still trained on my exposed breasts. The ones I’m too shocked to tuck back away where they belong. “I really do.”
