He can’t. I tell myself he can’t want me, not after I tried to kill him. And I can’t want him. He’s dangerous, and being around him is dangerous. Even without our history, I should steer clear of a man who will only bring danger everywhere with him.
But I can’t stop myself.
There’s something about the way he kisses me like he’s devouring me that breaks my strength. I can’t fight him when he touches me, when he knows everything that makes me melt. I can’t fight him.
I know I shouldn’t, but all I can do is give in.
I shut my eyes and pretend that none of the world can intrude here. This is just about want, just about sex. I shut everything out and focus on what he’s doing to me now.
Every move he makes sends pleasure shooting through me. He seems to know just what to do to make me melt. Every time his fingers plunge into me it feels just right; every time his tongue flicks against my clit, my legs shake.
It’s easy to forget who he is when I can’t think straight.
“Give me another,” he demands, clearly not satisfied with the first toe-curling orgasm he gave me. “Again, Katrina. Do it.”
He pushes and pushes until I feel my entire body clenching, my breath coming in bursts. I’m barely breathing at all when I finally come hard, a white-hot heat blinding me for a long minute as I feel the adrenaline run through me.
I can’t quite believe this is happening. I can’t believe that I just came on his face twice, that I’m sitting here with his head between my legs. I can’t believe it’s happening at all, with anyone.
I shouldn’t want this, but I do. It’s the only thing that’s bringing me down from the panic, the fear, the reality that’s crushing me.
I want to forget about everything. I want to let the world keep spinning outside these walls, because for once, I’m getting something I want so fucking bad. I’m getting the pleasure I haven’t had in so long.
And I want it from him.
“God. Please. Fuck…”
I clench my hands in his hair as I groan.
“I’m not your god,” he murmurs against my skin. “But I like the way it sounds when you pray to me, baby girl.”
He’s still moving, still pushing me past my second orgasm. I feel oversensitive with his fingers inside me, moving hard and fast. He burns through the afterglow and has me keyed up all over again in what feels like seconds.
This time, it’s a low burn. The pleasure building up in me feels harder, hotter. It’s a persistent burn like a wildfire. I can’t escape the sensation, and I can’t help moving my hips when I feel it coming. I don’t even have the presence of mind to be bashful or ashamed anymore; I just chase the feelings, looking for the pleasure I know is coming.
The third orgasm comes slowly. I feel like it hangs just out of reach forever, and when I finally do come again, my ears ring.
“There you go,” he growls approvingly. “So fucking sweet when you soak my face.”
I’m almost blind and deaf with how hard it hits me. Lachlan’s hands are on my hips, digging into me, holding me in place while I jerk against him. He doesn’t stop. He keeps moving.
He makes me come again, just as focused as before. I almost slide off the table; I feel so wet, so breathless. I’m barely breathing at all. My heart is racing, pounding in my ears.
I didn’t know I could come so hard, so fast, or so many times. I feel like I’ve been running a marathon.
And I know he can make me come again.
I feel sore already. It’s like I can feel him everywhere on my body, like he left a permanent mark. Even when his fingers slip out, they’re still there, my body feeling their shape like they never left.
When he draws back and stands up, I can see that he’s hard. Even with his pants still on, I know he’s big.
“What are you going to do?” I whisper, my heart fluttering.
He licks his lips, his eyes half-lidded. “What I’ve wanted to do since the day I first met you. Since the day you first invaded my thoughts. I’m going to fuck you out of my system.”
He lifts me up as if I weigh nothing, and when my feet hit the floor, my legs wobble.
There’s a sting of fear as I realize this is really happening, followed by a greater wave of desire. I’m afraid of what it might mean to let him inside me, but I want him more than I’m afraid of the consequences. Some mad, wild part of me needs this.