There was only one way to protect myself in this situation. I couldn’t lose myself in this man, when I could already feel the pull of how easy it would be. I needed to maintain my autonomy, my distance. My heart didn’t need any more incentive to fall into his clutches. I knew I couldn’t keep sex from him, knew I wasn’t that strong, but I didn’t have to make love to him.
I couldn’t make love to him and then watch him do it with someone else. And I already knew he had no desire to remain faithful, from what he’d told me in the alley that night. I couldn’t share myself with someone so carelessly, so indifferently, especially now, after my past mistake. So I could only give him a part of me—the only one he would want—and hope I would survive.
I didn’t expect him to argue, or to even care about my refusal. Kissing was romantic in a way, and I couldn’t see him wanting to share that with me.
My hands still gripped the counter on either side of me, and when he glanced at my left, the one with the ring, his gaze turned black with contempt. I could taste his sudden animosity on my tongue. Anger wasn’t a reaction I’d expected from him, but I guessed telling this man he couldn’t have something was only a way to make him want it more.
“Spread your legs.” His command was cold, rough, and rattled the existing fear.
With an unsteady inhale, I complied.
His palms ran up my legs as I did so, his thumbs pressing into my inner thighs with a harshness that made my stomach tighten in an unexpected way. His rough hands felt so absolute against my soft skin.
Legs spread, cool air brushed my panties and I was suddenly aware of how wet they were. His gaze touched me there, warm and thrilling yet still tinged with anger.
He yanked me closer by the back of the neck until my bare breasts pressed against his chest. My breathing was erratic as he growled in my ear, “You’re so goddamn hot it pisses me off.” And then he nipped my neck, hard.
I yelped at the short pain, but it turned into a moan when his thumb pressed down on my clit through the fabric of my thong. His grip tightened in my hair, forcing my head back, and then he sucked a nipple into his mouth. A spark ignited in my lower stomach, the flame spreading through my body like wildfire.
He brushed his thumb over my clit, up and down, while holding a fistful of my hair so I couldn’t even look down. He groaned from deep in his chest and switched breasts, licking and then sucking with a slight scrape of teeth. An embarrassing sound escaped me, but I was so hot everywhere I didn’t care.
I leaned back on my hands, my hips starting to rock under his touch. His mouth was so hot as he licked and played with my full breasts, until I thought I would die from it. When his hands left me, protest screamed in my veins.
With a dark gaze that wasn’t entirely angry anymore, he fisted my thong at my hip and pulled it down my thighs, dropping it to the floor with the rest of my clothes.
I spread my legs once more, past the point of rational thought. His gaze fell between my thighs. He gave his head a shake, running a hand down his tie. “Fuck.” That’s all he said, before his arms wrapped around the backs of my thighs, he jerked me to the edge of the counter, and then his head lowered between them. I shuddered under the first hot, wet touch of his tongue. A deep rush of pleasure flooded me, a stronger wave rolling through me at every soft, slow lap he took from the entrance to my clit.
This dangerous man was being surprisingly gentle, reverent, in what he was doing. Something touched me in the chest.
However, he wasn’t that docile.
His arms held me so securely I couldn’t move my hips an inch, while he took his time licking me, like he was doing it for himself and not me.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, digging my hands into his thick hair, running my blunt nails against his scalp. I’d said this man’s name a handful of times since I’d met him, but I found it slipping from my lips when he swirled his tongue over my clit before sucking.
He tensed, and I realized too late he didn’t like it when I called him Nicolas.
“What’s my name?” he rasped before his tongue pushed into my entrance.
I made a throaty, porny noise I never knew I was capable of.
When I didn’t answer, his mouth left me, and his smoldering gaze found mine. His words were sharp. “What’s my name?”
“Nicolas,” I breathed.
His eyes flashed, and then a feeling of fullness came over me when he slipped one finger inside me. Pleasure ignited, the wick burning through my bloodstream. He held his finger still and I tried to rock, but his grip around one thigh was immovable.
“Name?” he pressed.
I shook my head, hating this game. I had “Nicolas” on the tip of my tongue, but when he pulled out his finger and then plunged two inside me hard, I
choked on it and it unwillingly came out as “Nico.”
A tremor went through me when his mouth found my clit, licking and sucking while his fingers moved in and out of me, again and again. He did it so leisurely, making deep noises of satisfaction every once in a while.
He was taking his time, slowing down when the pressure built, driving me mad until “Please,” escaped my lips. Then his fingers curled inside of me, the flame growing hotter.
When he slowed again, I shook my head in panic, my hands tugging at his hair. I didn’t know what I’d turned into, but all I found myself repeating was “Please,” over and over. He finally gave me what I wanted. His firm laps steady, he fingered me faster, harder, until there was nothing but deep, hot pressure.