The exact same position we'd been in last night. When I'd felt the thick length of his erection pressing into me.
Kind of like now.
His brow furrowed as he scowled down at me. "Why are you like this?"
I muttered softly through my quivering lips, "I hate you."
"No you don't."
Even as I said it, my body betrayed me. My hips lifted ever so slightly, seeking him out.
He pinned me down, and I could feel the heat of his body on mine. His gaze softened as he gazed into my eyes, and suddenly the connection between us, pulsed to life as if it were tangible. My skin tingled at his touch, and my breath came in short gasps as I stared into his eyes.
His gaze bore into mine and we stayed locked like that staring at each other...and then his gaze dipped to my lips.
I opened my mouth to say something, but no words came out, the words caught and constricted between what I wanted to say, what I shouldn’t say, and the secret urges I kept hidden.
He leaned in closer, his warm breath tickling my skin making my pulse kick up, and my body started to tremble.
His breath was warm against my lips. He was so close.
His gaze darted to mine, and I froze. Suddenly his mask slipped, and he was the Drake I'd met in the bar. Sexy, fun and full of mischief.
He seemed to be at some kind of war with himself, but then he groaned, and he fused his lips with mine.
The explosion of riotous feelings in my body was almost too much to be contained.
I should have been fighting. I should have been biting him. I should have been screaming. But instead, I kissed him back.
We were a tangle of teeth and tongues and lips locked in a desperate embrace.
His kiss was rough, punishing. He kissed me as if he would never get the chance again, and it drove me wild with the need for more.
His free hand found my breast and roughly squeezed it through my shirt.
I gasped as heat pooled between my thighs and I made a low keening sound. I was desperate for more of him. More of this. I wanted to feel him against me. I wanted to feel his skin.
I tried to wriggle closer, but he was so strong. So big.
He dragged his lips from mine to kiss along my jaw, then my neck leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His nips and kisses sent shockwaves through me, making me writhe beneath him.
His hips rocked into me, sliding his jeans clad cock along my cleft and making me pulse. When he reached the edge of my shirt, he tugged it up, exposing my bare skin to his gaze.
His hand came up and cupped my breast, squeezing it roughly as he leaned down to take one of my pebbled tips into his mouth.
I arched my back in a desperate deranged effort to get closer. With a muttered growl, he did the one thing, I didn't anticipate.
He let go of my wrists. And like the Stockholm case that I was, instead of fighting, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, pushing myself up against him.
Our hands clawed at each other as we fought clothes and tried to fuse our bodies together. He kissed me again, this time shoving his hands into my hair, tugging gently to tilt my head back further as he continued to ravage me with his mouth.
I had never felt anything like this - like I was on fire from the inside out - and with each brush of his lips and each stroke of his tongue, I wanted more and more.
His hand trailed up to my breast, and he tweaked my nipple, sending another shot of need to my core.
He squeezed my breast hard, and I moaned, my body trembling. When he released my lips and trailed his hot wet tongue down my neck to my nipple, a low groan rumbled in his chest.
He sucked the tight bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and then biting down lightly, making me moan loudly, my body going limp.
With a chuckle, he released my nipple with a pop and then his hands slid down to my leggings. He paused momentarily at the elastic, his head snapping up and his gaze meeting mine.
His lips were swollen, his pupils dilated and his eyes hooded, but he was pausing as if asking for something.
If I wanted to stop.
He was giving me a choice. I opened my mouth, wanting to talk, to say something, but nothing intelligible came out. Instead, all I could do was nod intently.
I thought he would strip my leggings off. Instead, he slid his hand inside, his digits sneaking past my knickers like a thief in the night.
He kneed my legs apart and stroked over my sensitive folds. I groaned, arching up into his touch. I was so wet, so ready for him.
He went back to sucking on my nipples and my hands threaded into his thick dark locks, fisting them tight as he continued to stroke me. I couldn't believe how good he felt.
I felt like a live wire, and I needed him to touch me, to feel him inside me, to hear the sounds I would make.
"Please," I whispered, my hips lifting up to meet his hand. He stroked me again, circling my clit, but the friction wasn't enough. But he kept teasing me until I whimpered.
"Please," I begged.
"Please what?" he asked, his tone rough.
I groaned and arched up into his hand, and he gave me one more stroke before he stopped.
I whimpered, my body imploring his hand to continue.
"Please what, Daphne?" he asked, his voice low and raw.
My humiliation made me want to hide, to cower, but I spoke the words. "Please let me come."
"My pleasure." The thrumming strokes became more insistent as he tugged on one of my nipples with his teeth.
With a few for rough strokes, that coiled spring inside me finally snapped, making me come apart under his steady fingers.
His face was so close, his eyes blazing with lust, heat and possessiveness as he watched me.
I came so hard my vision went white with stars behind my eyes.
He didn't let up, his fingers continuing to thrum over my clit. The beginnings of another climax rose up within me, and I arched up into his hand. This time, he leaned in capturing my lips with his, swallowing the cry I couldn't hold back.
With a grunt, he adjusted his wrist so that he slid two thick, blunt fingers inside my pussy and his thumb took up the job of clit whisperer.
“Fucking hell, you’ve drenched my hand, kitten. Be a bad girl and leave me a wet spot I’ll need to sleep in tonight. Come for me again.”
His words, his thumb, the carnal forbidden pleasure. That second release was more powerful as I convulsed, trying to escape the sensations. But he planted his other hand on my lower abdomen, drawing out the wave of pleasure.
I was panting, my body limp. Still he stroked, more lazily now, as if he planned to keep me hovering here in a state of bliss. All the while his erection kicked insistently against my leg.
When I dropped my head back and my spent body splayed before him, Drake kissed up my body, landing back at my lips as his cock nudged at my cleft. My hips, treacherous traitors that they were rose to meet the occasion.
I'd spent months barely interested in sex, but one night with my kidnapper, and I couldn't get enough?
While I frantically tried to yank off his shirt, I heard something from the hallway.
"Drake? Are you up there?"
Reginald.
"Fucking hell," Drake muttered. His hips seemed to give an involuntary roll towards me before pushing he pushed off the bed and away from me.
While we stared at each other like a couple of caught teenagers, he grabbed my discarded T-shirt for me and tugged it back over my head.
Not before his gaze drifted back to my breasts though. When I was dressed, he nodded. "Am I carrying you back or are you walking?"