“You’re not vile,” he groaned. He drew his wet thumb from my lips and placed his hand firmly behind my neck so he could pull me down toward him.
“Then neither are you,” I managed before his mouth crashed against mine.
Our lips played with each other’s. Our tongues tangled. He licked deep inside my mouth, getting lost behind my teeth. He bruised me with the pressure of his nips along my jaw.
He was content to just kiss me like this for a long time. Well, not just kiss me. I lost my shirt—his shirt—right away, and his hands wandered up and down my body. Everywhere. Fondling my breasts. Pinching my nipples. Teasing past the crack in my ass.
I touched him as much as I could in return, sweeping my hands across his torso and bucking my hips against the growing length of his cock. But mostly, I clutched onto his neck and held on for dear life. Because though this wasn’t the first time I’d kissed him or rode him or coiled my fingers in his hair, this was the first time I was truly aware of what I was doing. That no matter what Donovan wanted this to be, I was not just having sex with him. This was not a non-relationship. Not for me.
And while I didn’t know what he wanted anymore or what would come next, I was sure that I needed to hold on.
Eventually, he tightened his arms around me and stood up. I wrapped my legs around him, locking my ankles at his waist. Without breaking his kiss, he carried me over to the bed and laid me on it. He undid the drawstring on his sweats, and I moved up to my knees so I could get a good look when he dropped them to the floor.
Jesus, he was hung.
I’d seen his cock before. Of course, I had.
But somehow seeing him completely naked, his firm thighs a mouthwatering background to the centerpiece, made his erection seem even fuller and heavier and more substantial than it ever had before.
I licked my tongue along my bottom lip. His eyes shone, the green flecks shimmering with satisfaction at the way I looked at him. With my eyes glued to his every move, he wrapped his hand around his shaft and tugged upward.
“Please,” I begged, my voice trembling, and I didn’t even know what I was begging for, but Donovan knew what I needed.
Wordlessly, he pushed me onto my side and curled up behind me. I immediately missed being able to watch him, but any objection I had to his chosen position was swallowed when he turned my chin toward him and devoured my mouth as he entered me with a long, slow glide.
He fucked me at a leisurely pace, his strokes pulling all the way out to the tip before pushing in again, deep. So deep. Balls deep. My nerves hummed from the intensity, but my orgasm couldn’t build enough to take off at this speed. It was luxuriously tormenting.
Soon, Donovan rolled onto his back, pulling me with him so that I was tight against his chest. It was harder to kiss him like this, but he had full access to my body, and he took advantage of it, playing with my breasts and rubbing at my clit in lazy circles, drawing my climax closer and closer and closer—
“Don’t come,” he commanded.
“I have to. I’m so close.” I was already on the edge.
“Don’t, Sabrina. I mean it.” His teeth sunk into the shell of my ear, a warning.
The haze around me dulled enough for me to think. “Then stop touching me like that.”
He was still massaging my clit, still tweaking my nipple in his other hand. “Uh-uh.”
The tension continued to build like a pressure cooker. I tried to sit up, tried to pull away from his attention, but he held me in place. “This isn’t fair.”
“My house, my rules. Remember?”
“Ah, fuck,” I moaned as his cock hit a particularly sensitive spot. “I. God. I can’t.”
“You will.”
Without him telling me what they were, I knew that my disobedience would have consequences.
And I wanted to obey him, for whatever reason.
Because I was in his bed.
Because it would make him happy.
Because it was natural.
So I fought against the growing tension, even as Donovan made it more and more impossible, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, pressing harder on my clit.
All the while he threatened at my ear, “Don’t do it, Sabrina. Don’t you dare come. Don’t you dare,” and he might as well have said, “Don’t you dare fall for me,” because pretty soon I realized it was just as pointless. Everything he did was leading toward that anyway. Everything he did was pushing me up, up, up and eventually, where else was I going to go? Eventually I’d—
“Now,” he growled.
—fall.
Just like that, on command, my orgasm tore through me, sending me spinning and spinning and spinning like a top—out-of-control and frenetic. Whirling so fast I was dizzy with euphoric, chaotic bliss.
He was right there with me, grunting out his climax in symmetry with mine. Both of us joined physically but experiencing our own separate rapture like we were two spiral galaxies revolving around each other in harmony.
It was beautiful. And perfect. And so much more than anything we’d shared before.
At least, it was for me.
It was a good feeling, a sweet ecstasy, and I didn’t want to disrupt it by thinking about what it was for him until I had to.
I closed my eyes to catch my breath.
It felt like a minute later, but it must have been longer because I was half asleep when Donovan pulled me under the covers and tugged me into his arms, spooning me. He was the only person I dreamt about that night, and my head wasn’t filled with images of rape or sex or assault or violence.
Instead, in my dreams, Donovan held me tight and whispered words that made me feel things. Beautiful things. Things he could never feel in return. Words he could never mean if he were awake.
Chapter 29
The smell of freshly ground coffee brewing woke me up the next morning.
I lingered for several minutes, letting consciousness chase sleep away. With wakefulness, I remembered—I was different today than when I’d woken up yesterday. I breathed that in; let myself adjust as my emotions spread their wings inside me like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.
I was different.
But who was Donovan?
There was only one way to know. With a yawn, I stretched my well-used muscles and stumbled out of bed to find him.
First, I had to find some clothes.
The shirt I’d worn the night before had disappeared so I had no choice but to invade his walk-in closet in search of my dress. As he’d said it would be, I found it hanging on the rack in front of a row of sharply tailored suits. It was obviously out of place, yet I liked the way my clothing looked next to his. I trailed my hand along the jacket sleeves as I walked toward the back of the room and inhaled. It smelled like him in here. Like his aftershave and the brand of shoe polish he used. I’d never get tired of that smell.
In the back of the closet, next to rows of neatly folded ties, I discovered a shelf of plain white T-shirts. I decided he wouldn’t mind if I borrowed one. Or, rather, I decided that I didn’t care if he did mind.
After stopping in the bathroom to freshen up as best as I could and swish with some mouthwash I found in his cabinet, I padded downstairs toward the smell of the coffee.
My nose led me to the kitchen where I also found Donovan. He was standing with his back to me at the island, reading on a tablet. He wore a light gray T-shirt and a different pair of sweatpants than he’d worn the night before, and though I liked this look on him as much as any, I was slightly disappointed to find his beautiful torso once again covered up.