Chapter Thirty-One #2
The rest of my sentence got cut off because I found myself suddenly slammed against the wall in the hallway, my wrists grabbed in his giant hands, yanking them upward and pinning them to the wall above my head as his form pressed into mine.
There wasn’t even a chance for my breath to whoosh out of me or for the anticipation to build inside before his lips slammed down onto mine.
It was nothing like the last kiss, where he let me have the lead, where he responded to my pace and pressure.
No.
This was pure, raw, primal male domination.
And strong as I was, I was brought to putty by it.
My hands instinctively tried to pull against the hold, wanting to wrap around him, wanting to run my hands over the lines of his body.
His teeth snagged my lower lip, biting roughly, making a loud moan rip from somewhere deep in my chest, giving him the opportunity to claim my tongue with his.
His hands shifted, one moving to hold both my wrists against the wall, the other moving down.
The fingers slid down the sensitive, rarely touched underside of my arm, the side of my breast, the inward dip of my waist, the swell of my hip.
His touch was unexpectedly gentle, the dichotomy sending shockwaves of a desire so intense it was painful through my body.
His hand reached my knee and grabbed, yanking it up to the side of his hip, allowing me to be open to him as he thrust himself against me.
Even through his pants, his cock was hard, massive, suggesting fulfillment, but in no way giving it as he thrust against me hard once, making my breath catch as a flood of wet met my panties.
He thrust again, and my choked moan seemed to do something to him, seemed to pull him out of whatever primal trance he had been in.
Because he dropped my leg. He released my wrists. And he pushed back so not an inch of our bodies was touching anymore.
My eyes snapped open, my entire body humming with desire and confusion. He was looking at me, a heat in his eyes, but he seemed to push it away.
He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “Well, that shut you up.”
I knew it was a cover. I knew it was his way of trying to lighten the mood, trying to move us away from a situation he hadn’t meant to play out.
And, well, no one would ever say that I gave up easily. That wasn’t my style.
I pushed off the wall, ignoring the shakiness of my legs, the painful need low in my belly. I pressed a hand in the center of his stomach and slowly traced my fingertip down.
“I can think of another thing to do with my mouth.”
“Fucking Christ, woman,” he grumbled, tilting his head up to examine the ceiling for a second.
He pulled in a breath so deep it must have been painful, and I knew he had won the battle with himself and that I was just going to have to pull it together and wait to catch him weak again.
“Alright, so, how many bedrooms do you have going on here?”
“Four.”
“Four?” I asked, stopping short as we started down the hall. “Have a lot of company?”
“Have plans to settle down,” he corrected, shrugging and opening the first door to a guest room. It was all but undecorated—just painted walls in a medium blue and curtains on the windows. The second room was the same, with yellow paint instead.
“So, for kids,” I mused as he led me into the third room, which was actually set up as a guest room with a full-size bed, nightstands, and off-white walls.
“You want kids, Kenz?”
I had learned to hate that question. Not because I didn’t want them, but because I wasn’t going to build my life around something that might or might not happen.
I wasn’t exactly young anymore, and there hadn’t been a serious man in my life for a while.
I focused on my career. If the right man came along in the next couple of years, before I stepped into the ‘definitely too old’ stage, I liked the idea of a kid or two.
So I hated the question because of what followed when I explained that to someone—the shocked looks, the comments about my clock, the advice about how the longer I waited, the more ‘high risk’ I would be, the less men would want me.
Yadda fucking yadda. As if my life choices were anyone’s business but mine.
“If the man is right and the time is right,” I said, nodding as he showed me the hall half bath, all updated—nice but nothing to write home about.
“That’s a good answer,” he told me, stopping in front of the last of the bedrooms, the one I knew was going to be his. He made no move to open it, likely knowing that once he did, there would be no going back, still trying to be the ‘good guy.’
And, finding myself uncharacteristically without words, I reached for the door and let myself in.
His room showed the same care as the main area of the house, with warm brown walls and cream accents.
The space was dominated by a bed bigger than any I had ever seen, so big that I was pretty much convinced it was specially made because even a California King was smaller.
It was a platform in a deep wood, simple, streamlined, as seemed to be his style.
It also matched the nightstands and the dresser with, surprisingly, no TV on top—just a mirror that matched the set.
“No TV?” I asked, turning back to find him leaning on the doorway, not wanting to step in. Because he knew if he stepped in, things were going to happen.
I found I liked that. I liked that I had that kind of control over him.
“Beds are for two things only, neither of which involves a TV.”
I pressed my lips together slightly. “Sleeping would be one of those things, I would assume. The other…” I trailed off, knowing it was a challenge, knowing he would rise to it.
“Fucking.”
There it was.
“Really? Fucking, huh? In this bed?” I asked, brows drawn together as I moved to sit on the edge of it. “I find that a little hard to believe.”
“Kenz…”
“I’m just saying, this bed doesn’t seem like it has been tested out in a good, long time,” I mused as I slowly moved to lie back, stretching my arms out, legs still hanging off the end, cocked to the side slightly.
“I can only take so much here, honey.”
My head tilted to look at him, seeing the struggle for control, reveling in it. “You can take whatever you want, Tig,” I offered.
And that did it.
His eyes closed for a second as he exhaled. He pushed off the doorway, moving in, and closing it behind him.
His gaze burned into me as he went to the end of the bed, the heat in his eyes scorching. My head tilted to watch him as he stood there, just looking down at me for a long moment.
Then his hands moved out, stroking up the outsides of my ankles, calves, knees, thighs.
The touch sent a shivering sensation from the base of my spine up and outward.
His fingers didn’t stop there; he kept drifting upward, meeting the hem of my skirt and lifting it upward, the fabric tickling over the suddenly overly sensitive skin.
They paused at my hips, his eyes moving up my body to find mine, expectant.
I lifted my hips, and he finished pushing up the skirt where it bunched around my navel, leaving my pretty black lace panties on show, the ones with a tiny pink rose in the center that I was particularly fond of.
It happened too fast for me to have guessed his intention beforehand.
One second, he was just learning every inch of me with his eyes.
The next, he had somehow simultaneously dropped down onto his knees, yanked me almost to the edge of the bed, then pressed my knees wide against the mattress, covering my panties and cleft with his mouth.
My entire body jolted, unprepared. The sound that escaped me was equal parts gasp, cry, and moan as his tongue moved out and found my clit through the material, working it in firm circles, his head tilted at an angle so his eyes could watch me.
My hand moved out, holding the back of his neck.
The second he felt my touch, his hand moved between us, yanking my panties to the side and sucking my clit into his mouth.
“Oh my God,” I hissed, my hips thrusting upward at the rush of pleasure that started to course through me.
A low, growling noise came from deep in Tig’s chest as his lips released my clit and his tongue slid down my pussy, curling in on itself, then thrusting inside me.
I saw white.
But he didn’t even give me a chance to get used to the sensation as he thrust twice then pulled out, letting my panties drop into place before reaching for the waistband, looking expectantly up at me. My hips rose, and he pulled the swatch of material down my thighs and off my ankles.
And, again, I couldn’t have anticipated it.
The second my panties were gone, Tig grabbed my ankles and somehow completely whipped me onto my stomach on the bed, the action so fast that I actually found myself startled to have my face in the sheets for a second before the surge of desire coursed through me again.
He was completely and utterly… unexpected.
That was really the only way to put it. One moment, he would let me lead.
The next, he was pinning me to a wall. Then still, down on his knees worshipping me.
Then throwing me around. I couldn’t tell what his next move would be, and that was absolutely exhilarating and addictive.
His hands grabbed my dress and yanked it up and off.
Then I felt his tongue tracing up the back of my calf, knee, thigh, up and over my ass, then following the line of my spine until his hands had to plant beside me to hold him up.
His hips pressed against me, making his hard cock stroke me where I needed him most, making me whimper into the sheets.
The sound brought another growl out of him as he braced on one arm, using the other hand to grab the hair at the base of my neck and yank hard to the side, giving him access to my neck where he planted sweet, soft kisses as his cock ground against me.