He straightened and gave me a hard look. Then I was turned roughly in his hands until I was facing the bookshelf and his chest was a wall at my back. “Fictional friends do not count.”
I had to move forward to try to turn and protest, but he just used it as an opportunity to advance on me. We shuffled two small steps until I was trapped and all I could see were the different colored spines of books. And then his lips were on the curve of my neck again, and his fingers traced a line down my bare back.
I peered at the titles before me and slipped deeper into his seduction.
I wished for a lot of things at that moment. To know if my sister had legitimate feelings for the man at my back, whose erection was poking against me. I wanted the door to this library to have a lock on it, and for Royce to use it. And I needed to know, since everything was going to hell anyway, when he was going to make good on his threat of sliding his hand up my dress and discovering how badly he’d turned me on.
I didn’t have feelings for him. At least, not in the way a normal girl would. He used people, and I was eager to do the same to him. He could satisfy my curiosity about sex, and hopefully be very satisfying while doing it.
His hot, hungry mouth roved over me, like he needed to press his lips to every inch of my defenseless flesh he could find. I put my hands out and grasped the dusty shelf before me. Once again, he pushed my hair over my shoulder and out of his way, exposing my back, and I tilted my chin down to my chest.
“This is my favorite part of a woman.” He drew a line across my shoulder blades with his tongue. Goosebumps pebbled on my skin. Of course, this was his favorite spot. Not the breasts, or the ass, or the legs . . . but the place that controlled all of a woman’s physical power.
The place where she was most vulnerable.
If someone walked in right now, they’d have to think the scene was beyond strange. A girl with green hair in a virginal cocktail dress, clutching the bookcase for dear life as the man in the suit behind her worshiped her back with both his hands and his mouth. It was relatively benign what we were doing, but it was the most erotic moment of my life.
Pleasure radiated from his kisses, and the warmth spread deep between my legs. It got worse as he gripped my hips and ground himself against me. I wasn’t sure which was more shocking, the sensation of his hard length, or that he found kissing me arousing.
Royce’s words twisted with lust. “I want to fuck you under this white dress.”
He kept one hand tight on my hip but slid the other up the curve of my body. All the way until it was cased around my throat, forcing my head back onto his shoulder. His fingers flexed, constricting just enough to make me feel his dominance but not outright fear.
He growled roughly in my ear. “I want to see your red lipstick smeared all over my dick.”
I exhaled a sharp breath.
His voice was abruptly so low and smooth, it sounded like he was inside my head. “Would you like that?”
Would I? The image of me on my knees, his belt and pants undone flickered through my mind. It was undeniably hot, but what about Emily? What about the door that anyone could walk through and catch us?
He sensed my hesitation not by my lack of answer, but by the tension in my body.
“No?” His question was rhetorical. The hand on my hip snaked down to the center of my skirt where he pressed his thick fingers between my legs. The dress had many layers of fabric, but as he rubbed me, the sensation was pleasurable enough to make my heart stop.
When a moan drifted past my lips, a satisfied chuckle rattled in his chest. My legs shook as he deliberately worked the layers of the skirt up, and I jolted when his palm found my inner thigh. What we were doing was bad.
But—God—it would be worse if he stopped.
I couldn’t control my breathing as his hand inched upward and brushed the damp crotch of my panties. His tone was pure evil. “What’s this?”
I didn’t defend myself. I just stood there, waiting patiently for him to cross the line. His phone chimed in his pocket, but he ignored it. He was more interested in teasing and balancing me on the knife’s edge of desire.
Royce finally stroked his hand between my thighs, touching me through the thin satin. He wasn’t gentle about it either, and I was glad. It made it easier to remember I didn’t like him. Plus, the heat between us was searing and urgent, and I’d rather have his touch now than wait for him to be careful.