"I'm going to fill more than just your mind if you keep that up." My tone is low and threatening.
She leans in, her lips hovering over mine. "Bring it on,Bax."
Releasing one side, I glide the tips of my thumb, fore, and middle fingers up her spine. Denielle hums her approval, never breaking our visual connection. Reaching its destination, my hand wraps around the back of her neck, applying pressure and confirming she understands who's in charge. I force her mouth to mine, biting her bottom lip, not enough to draw blood but to bring my point across further. Denielle whimpers, and I watch her eyes flutter closed. She licks across the spot I just nipped before sinking teeth into the same spot.
God, this woman is going to kill me.
I let myself fall back on the mattress, pulling her with me. Her eyes spring open as she braces her palms against the comforter. The air between us ignites with pent-up…need? Anger? Frustration? The emotional overload from the last hour short-circuits all rationale. Her gaze finds mine, desire swirling in the brown of her irises. My hand releases her neck as she climbs the bed, her legs straddling me.
Denielle grinds into my groin, and I thank the heavens that I'm no longer wearing my jeans, but the borrowed sweats. Her heat burns through the minimal barrier, and my fingers dig into the flesh of her ass.
Clasping the bottom of her shirt, she pulls it off in one swift move. My cock twitches. My mouth waters at the sight of her perky tits. I cover one of her breasts with my palm, kneading her soft flesh.
She begins to lower her face, and I'm forced to readjust my grip to a different body part. When her naked chest connects with mine, I apply pressure to her taut ass, and she rocks into me. A feverish heat spreads through my veins, wanting to taste every inch of my woman.
My woman.Nothing has ever felt so right.
Her hands cup my face before her thumbs stroke across my forehead. She scans my face before leaning in. Her tongue swipes across the seam of my mouth, seeking entrance. She explores me with feverish desire, spurning on my hunger for her.
Denielle's moan when my fingers slip into her pants reverberates through the room. Finding that she never put on the underwear I had left in the bathroom for her snaps my last bit of self-control.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
DENIELLE
Marcus's handsdisappear from my ass. Before I can protest, I'm on my back with him hovering above me.
He slants his head, sizing me up like an animal about to devour his prey. I wait for his next move. His gaze dips to my rapidly rising and falling chest. Drawing in air has become increasingly harder.
Suddenly, Marcus retreats. Cold air hits my flushed skin, and I shiver. Propping myself up on my elbow, my brows knit. What is he doing? Did he change his mind about—
He slides off the bed, hooks his thumbs into the waistband, and pushes his sweats down. His movements are almost too smooth. No one should be able to undress this gracefully, yet fast. But I only have eyes for one body part. His hard cock stands erect, glistening at the top. Saliva pools in my mouth, remembering the club and how he tasted on my tongue.
I push up farther, pressing my palms into the mattress, but Marcus shakes his head.
"Uh-uh." The way the corner of his mouth quirks, a quiver somersaults in my stomach. He lifts his hand and twirls his forefinger in the air. "Turn."
At the menace in the one word, my bent legs drop inward, pressing together from my knees to my needy pussy. I don't recognize myself, but then I've never experimented or let go before.
I hold his gaze, and Marcus blinks once. "Who is in charge here,Keller?" He's running out of patience.
Jesus Christ, why does this make me so wet?
"You are," I breathe out, unable to speak at a normal volume.
"Then, why are you not on your knees yet?" He fists his dick, stroking up and down.
In slow motion, I shift, not leaving him out of sight until I find myself facing the headboard. My hands and knees press into the soft comforter as I wait. When nothing happens, I begin to turn my head, but suddenly, something wraps around my eyes from behind. Shifting my weight to the right, my left hand reaches up to identify the object—one of my silk headbands.
"Do you have anything to say, baby?" His breath fans over my ear, and I jump. I didn't realize how close he'd come.
"No."
"If at any point you want to change…pace, just say the word." His sudden gentle tone contrasts his commanding persona from a moment ago. Marcus Baxter would never force me to do something I didn't want. He's merely giving me what I asked for.
A new voice pushes its way into my conscious thoughts.What does this say about you? Wanting to submit to him.
I sit back on my heels, covering my breasts with my arms. If I weren't alreadyblind, my eyes would've squeezed together, not wanting to face Marcus. The mattress shifts, and Marcus's arms sneak around my chest, covering mine with his.