He held it aloft, hanging off the end of a single fingertip, looking at it askance. “What the hell is this?”
“Panties?”
He placed them in his pocket. “I’ve blown my nose in Kleenex bigger than that,” he growled. He leaned forward to voice a command into her ear. “Don’t you ever, ever leave the house again wearing anything like that unless you’re with me.”
Excuse me?she thought, and opened her mouth to respond. But his fingers had already found their way inside her, and she immediately forgot whatever nonsense it was she was about to retort.
Hell, she forgot her middle name.
His kisses had already rendered her slick, supple and willing, so those plunging fingers made short work of their task, bringing her to a point of desire and need where she couldn’t spell the word ‘no’, much less articulate it.
She let her knees fall open, watching greedily as he quickly undid his belt buckle and the button of his pants. Already the mound in the front of his fly told her all she needed to know about his reciprocated desire, and the memory of that delicious hunk of flesh that was waiting for her made her mouth water.
She reached her hands forward to him, giving in to the voice in her head that saidgimme, gimme gimme!
He slapped her hand away. “No. You wait.”
“What?” she cried, aghast. His fingers were working on her again, and her hips were rising against them, pressing back, communicating the rhythm she yearned for, but that wasn’t how she wanted her first orgasm to be. She wanted to experience it with him buried deep inside her. That, for her, was always the best way.
His face was the picture of malice. “You wait or you beg.”
“I hate you,” she said with spirit, but her blood was hot and the tension in her hips was rising higher, tying her stomach into knots. She needed him for release. Right now.
He reached into his fly and withdrew that thick, rigid, wonderful hunk of flesh she’d impaled herself on so many times, like a thorn bird dying with a thorn in its heart.
If she didn’t have him now, she would lose her goddamn mind.
“Well,” he taunted, rubbing the tip just along the engorged lips, but not venturing any farther inside. “Tell me, mon cœur. Do you want this or not?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Yes. That’s indisputable. But I asked you a question.” He punctuated his words by stroking himself against her. “Yes or no? Going once… twice…”
“Yes!”
“All you had to say,” he said with a taunting grin, and plunged into her. She felt the thump of her head against the bathroom wall, her body moving backward with every powerful thrust. Felt herself being filled up, her body changed by pregnancy, more demanding, more responsive. Her nerve endings more sensitive.
She felt her orgasm rise in mere minutes, and before she lost coherent thought, she noticed over his shoulder that the bathroom door wasn’t locked. “Nathanael, you didn’t lock—” She was panting too hard to finish her sentence.
“Leave it,” he grunted. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, and she leaned forward to lick it off his cheek.
“Someone could—”
“We’re all alone.” He gave her a devilish grin. “And even if someone were to come in, the risk makes this sweeter,non?”
Not that she gave a damn anymore, because all she could feel, hear, see, was her own frenzied insanity.