I released her nipple with a pop and then bit, nipped, and sucked a path up to her ear. “You think you can stop me making you come, Ronnie?”
Pleasure contorted her face. Her pussy squeezed in tightening pulses.
I flicked my tongue into her ear and then bit her earlobe. “If I want you to come, you’ll come, babe.”
Twisting my wrist, I rolled the pad of my thumb over her clit.
A choked cry burst from her. Her hips bucked upwards. “Lucas…”
“Do you really want to go to the beach, Ronnie?” I asked, reveling in the concentrated pleasure on her face, in her moans and pants.
Her eyebrows knitted as I rolled my thumb against her clit again.
I nipped at her jaw, her chin, her bottom lip. “Do you?”
“Hell yeah,” she moaned. My body reacted to the lust and desire and challenge in the words. “Right now.”
I shook my head, pressed her wrist harder to the bed and increased my fingers’ thrusts inside her. I could feel the beginnings of her orgasm tremble in her body. She writhed on the bed, one long leg wrapped around my hip, her pants and pleas for me to fuck her harder and faster torturing my control…
“Come for me, babe,” I ordered, on the edge of oblivion. My cock throbbed in my jeans, straining against the zipper. The metal teeth dug into my stretched flesh, torture threaded through raw pleasure.
Any hard-on I got for Ronnie was perfect, even one I refused to relieve.
Not yet. Not until I made her come. Twice.
“Fucking erupt all over my fucking hand, babe,” I commanded against the side of her neck, shifting on the bed. I loomed over her, trapping her to the mattress, my weight on her thigh.
“Oh God, Lucas…”
The sound of my name leaving her lips on a breath of sheer hunger sent fresh blood to my dick. Flooded it. Turned it into a pole of rigid agony.
As always, when Ronnie turned me on, I suffered the most exquisite pain and pleasure a guy can. Addictive pain and pleasure.
Potent.
The very second I allowed myself to sink into her, I would explode. The battle over the beach—and what it really stood for in my head—made that inevitable.
Knowing I had turned her into a prisoner of my love, my fear for her, turned this fuck into something dark.
Christ, the good girl in my bed had no clue who she’d fallen in love with. Who loved her. A man who would kill for her.
A dangerous man.
A dangerous man made weak by her.
“Come for me, babe,” I ordered again, trying to soften the demand. To take its ruthless urgency away. I moved my mouth to her breast, capturing her nipple with punishing hunger. Sucked.
“Beach first,” she moaned, digging her heel into the small of my back.
Every move she made, every breath belied the statement. Her juices trickled from her sex, over my fingers, into my palm. Her free hand—the one I wasn’t pinning to the bed with inescapable domination—raked at my back, my shoulders. Was she drawing blood? Possibly.
I almost cracked at the thought. My dick pulsed, a thick spasm jerking it in the prison of my jeans.
Thank fucking God I’d put them on after I’d showered. If I was naked now, if there was nothing separating Ronnie’s pussy from my cock, I’d be balls deep in her now.
I pressed my thumb harder to her clit, rubbed it back and forth. “Come,” I growled, watching pleasure twist her eyebrows into a frown.
“For.” I abandoned her clit, returning to the rapid stimulation of her G-spot. She whimpered and arched beneath me, her blunt nails gouging at my shoulder.