He caught her wrists and held them down against the mattress. Even that, the way he shackled her wrists and pinned her, like a captive, his grip unbreakable yet so incredibly gentle she knew he wouldn’t leave one single mark on her skin. She almost wanted him to. When they’d had one night together, he’d been wild, leaving marks of possession all over her with his hands and his teeth. He would go from gentle to rough. From sweet to wild. She loved every single second with him. He’d set up such an addiction that even now, knowing he held himself away from her, her heart beat wildly and her body went liquid with urgent hunger.
“I know I hurt you with the careless shit I said to you.”
His blue eyes stared directly into hers, so that it was impossible to look away no matter how much she wanted to. It didn’t matter that she was hurt and even angry with him—he was always going to be that man she responded to. His eyes were no longer cold but fiery blue flames, fierce like the wild, turbulent, out-of-control lover she’d been with that first night.
She was over the things he’d said that morning. So over them, but she’d let him think that was the cause of her hurt. What would her excuse be now?
The intensity of that blue flame burned right through every shield she might have attempted to put up. Her body responded to that look. She responded. She couldn’t just blame it on her body. She could feel the flames licking over her skin like a million heated tongues. He wasn’t doing one single thing other than holding her down and staring into her eyes, yet she could feel his mouth moving over her bare skin. She tried to hold back a moan.
There was his voice. Like velvet. Brushing along every nerve ending. He knew how to use it. Compelling. Commanding. While he spoke to her, his thumb caressed the inside of her wrist right over her pounding pulse, sweeping back and forth in a mesmerizing rhythm that robbed her of her ability to breathe. At the same time, one of his legs slid in between hers, pushing them apart.
“I swear I had no idea what I was saying or doing that night. I was so damn tired, so many hours without sleep and I’d held an illusion for too long. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. You still are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He simply took her mouth, and the earth itself spun so fast it fanned the flames rising between them. The fire burned hot, a whirlwind, a storm that rushed over her so that she had to have more. Needed more. She opened herself to him. Gave herself to him. There was no holding back. There hadn’t been before, and there couldn’t be now.
Player released her wrists and caught her tank, tugging at it. “Is this a favorite? Get rid of it, or it’s gone. I need your tits, baby. I’ve been looking at them for weeks. Thinking about them. Dreaming about them.” He dragged the tank over her head and tossed it away.
The sensation of the night air on her suddenly exposed breasts was shockingly sensual. The way the blue flames in his eyes leapt and burned over her added to the fire rushing through her veins and roaring between her legs.
His hands tore at her shorts next. “Don’t want anything between us. Not anything. I wake up with the taste of you in my mouth, and go to sleep with you there.” He ripped the shorts off her hips with one vicious jerk and discarded the scraps.
Zyah couldn’t stop the soft little moan from escaping this time. Her hips jerked, and she felt her body slick with welcome for him. She had those same sensations every morning, every evening, and she was so grateful she wasn’t alone. Right at that moment, it didn’t matter if it was just sex or not, she was desperate for him.
“Sometimes I lie on this bed with the scent of you in my lungs and I can actually feel my cock sliding into your hot mouth or your tight little pussy and think I’m going to go insane if I don’t have you again.”
Those blue eyes burned right into hers until she felt as if he branded her soul. He wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t felt night after night. The memory of his cock stretching her lips, heavy on her tongue. His taste. Inside her. Deep. Even there, stretching her until she felt so full and taken. Until she felt as if he’d written his name inside her.
He lowered his head again, and his mouth was on her neck, his teeth nipping and then catching, so that her body shuddered as the fleeting pain somehow sent fire streaking through her. His tongue was velvet, his lips soft as he kissed the sting away. He kissed and nipped his way to her breast, his hands cupping the weight as he slid down her body.
“I love your tits, baby.” His hands were rough, squeezing and massaging.
She loved the way he touched her as if he couldn’t get enough, as if he was in such a hurry to take every inch of her in. She caught at his hair, all that beautiful, messy, untamed hair that made him look like a fallen angel. Her nails slid down his back, long streaks of fire, to urge him on.
His mouth found the top of her right breast while his hands caressed underneath both breasts. His mouth was hot, lips velvet soft to match the gentle fingers stroking along the curves. Then his teeth nipped, and his fingers bit into her, kneading possessively. She arched into him, giving him more, wanting more. Those lightning strikes kept streaking like fiery arrows from her breasts to her clit, so that she clenched and clenched. Her hips bucked. Her sex wept.
“I love your mouth, Player,” she whispered. “Your hands on me.”
“My teeth. My cock. You fuckin’ love my body, baby, the way I love yours.”
She did. There was no denying that. He was nibbling at the sides of her breasts now. First one, then the other. Avoiding her nipples. She was dying for him to touch her there. To settle his mouth there. She had more than generous breasts. She remembered how much time he spent on them, worshipping them. He had even dribbled wax on them and slowly peeled it off. He’d wanted to eat off her breasts. He told her he wanted her to dance for him with nipple clamps on and that he’d have his brother, Ice, a jeweler, make her a beautiful set, one of a kind, with bells, just for her, to go with her anklet of bells.
She slid her hand down his body, trying to reach his cock, but he was too far. She could only dig her nails into his back and the tops of his hips to try to get him to where she wanted him to be.
He laughed softly against her breast, his breath warm. “Do you think you’re going to gain control by digging your nails into me? I like that you want me, Zyah. I love that you’re making that little keening mewl that says your sweet little pussy is hot as hell and slick for me. My cock is pressed against your thigh. You feel how hot it is? How hard? That’s all yours. But you’re going to wait until I take my time and claim every fuckin’ inch of you.”
She loved the way he did that. He talked to her like that, as if he owned her. As if her body belonged to him. He talked dirty. He was rough. He was gentle. She needed his kind of wild sex to feel alive. He brought out a side of her that, when they came together, made her truly complete. He made her feel beautiful and powerful. She loved being his.
“Well, let me have it.” She leaned into him and bit his shoulder and then soothed the sting with her tongue. She loved his skin. The taste of him. “Do you know how good I could make you feel?” She didn’t have to deliberately make her voice sultry; it was already that way—for him— for Player. Tempting him. Wanting him.
He retaliated, biting the left side of her breast and then the right, sending flaming arrows straight to her sex so that her hips bucked and she cried out. His tongue traced her areola, a long, slow sweep, very gentle. It felt so good she closed her eyes. He moved to her other breast, repeating that same sweet action, his tongue a wicked weapon, teasing her senses, drugging her until she couldn’t think properly.