CHAPTER 21 #2
Her hips rise and fall. Her nails sink into his shirt as she holds on to his shoulders and grinds down. Her head kicks back, causing her hair to sway down her back. Then her hand goes down to the tie on her corset, and she slowly starts to loosen the string holding it together.
Before it falls open, she clutches it with one hand, prolonging the reveal.
But I can’t. I can’t… I can’t watch one more damn moment of this.
I already want to put my fist through this asshole’s face.
If he sees even another inch of her skin—or touches her in any way—I’m not sure he’ll live to see tomorrow.
Before I can react, she peels the fucking corset away and drops it to the floor at her feet.
The snap is fucking audible in my head.
Iridescent pasties cover her nipples. Her breasts, heavy and free now, are a feast for the eyes. A sight this motherfucker has no right to.
The bark of words is loud enough to be heard over the music. “That’s enough! Show’s over.”
They both startle at the sharp bite in my words. It’s rude and unprofessional, but I couldn’t give a fuck.
“You.” I point at him. “Get the fuck out.”
Lily does something I don’t expect. She rises and smiles knowingly. She turns her head slightly, maybe trying to hide it from me, but I see it plain as fucking day and read her like a book.
Ohhhh-hooo… this fucking woman. That hint of a wicked smile right there at the corner of her lips.
Holy fuck.
She did this on purpose.
That knowledge heightens my instincts to the point that when the suit walks toward me, I step into his path and block his exit.
Because I’m not the club owner anymore. What’s riding me, the fucking beast stretching under my skin, is breathing smoke and pushing aggression and anger to the surface.
In my head, I’m smashing this asshole’s face against the goddamn wall, breaking his nose in the process, and pinning his arm behind him until his blessed bones break.
The suit must finally catch on to the present danger because a flicker of fear flashes over his features. He mumbles a thank-you to Lily and then dashes quickly around me.
I meet his gaze the entire time, silently telling him: Don’t come back.
Lily plops onto the couch and relaxes. She doesn’t get dressed.
No, she lazily twirls the ends of her hair while biting her bottom lip.
She’s the vision of a babydoll vixen, and she’s staring right back at me, while scissoring her legs, rubbing them against each other as if to fight off the ache between her thighs.
Only, she doesn’t stop there. She lets her hand rest across her panty line and teases the top edge.
When I arch my eyebrow, she very deliberately plants her feet on the floor and spreads her thighs. A come-hither dare if I ever saw one. It’s naughty, dirty, and a seductive move done with sultry grace, and yeah, it draws me right the fuck in.
Her other hand trails down her chest. Those deft fingers play with her belly button. She’s fiddling with a tiny diamond piercing. It’s so small, I missed it until now.
It’s slightly disturbing—her power over me, how she can level me with a look, cut to the heart of me, reel me in, and peel back layers of control to expose what’s raw, hungry, and wanting underneath.
The man I become in moments like this, the one who acts on impulse alone, is fucking untethered and dangerous.
And he takes over completely when she goes one step further and lets her fingers play with her clit over her panties.
Her head tilts back, and those gorgeous blue eyes damn me—because I come fucking undone.
This isn’t lust. It goes beyond.
She hasn’t simply dragged me out of the numbness, the dark space inside my mind that I’ve been buried in for too long, she’s woken me the fuck up.
Has driven me fucking crazy with hunger.
Has made me an obsessive, possessive motherfucker who craves any small piece of her she’s willing to give.
She’s making me feel again with a fever I didn’t even know existed.
I’d all but given up on there being an us.
But by the way she’s looking at me now? I was dead fucking wrong.
She’s not out of reach. She’s just been waiting for me to be man enough to act on my feelings.
Why else would she have orchestrated this moment, fucking engineered it to get a rise out of me?
Well, here I am, little minx. Here. I. Fucking. Am.
My logic’s gone. Control? Out the window. All that’s left is a feral man on the brink of madness, completely unsound, but if that’s what she wants, then that’s what she gets.
My stride eventually puts me toe to toe with her. Those fingers of hers continue to work and leave behind a damp spot. My knees damn near buckle at the sight.
Fuck. I need her taste on my tongue.
The moan… the fucking moan she releases has my cock jerking in response.
It’s a distress signal if I ever heard one.
To the man in me—the starving bastard who needs to help others to feel whole—it’s a call to action.
I take a step forward, and she instantly raises a foot, pressing it against my stomach, stopping me in my tracks. She tilts her head to the side and gives me an impish smirk.
I glare down at her foot and chuckle. Does she really think that’ll stop me?
I latch my hand around her calf, giving it a warning squeeze, which has her raising an eyebrow in challenge. Ohh… she wants to play some more, huh?
Fine. Let’s play.
I match her expression, raising my brow right back, and slide my hand up her leg.
Goosebumps spread over her flesh at my touch.
The silky smoothness of her leg is divine under my palm, and then her other foot comes up.
Her fucking heels dig into my stomach. The threat is unmistakable .
A bluff, or will she truly impale me if I don’t back down?
Guess we’ll find the fuck out, won’t we?
Testing it, I lean over her and plant my hand on the back of the couch. Her legs bend. The fierce glare she gives is not a deterrent. If anything, it lights me fuck up.
“I like you down there. Under me. Seems like it’s where you belong.”
“That right?” She tries to sit up. But I refuse to let her go and tighten my hold on her leg.
“Thinkin’ so, yeah.”
Her breath catches. And I realize it’s in these small tells that she reveals all.
It hurts like a motherfucker when her heels stab deeper.
However, this is the kind of pain I could get addicted to.
And thankfully, my tolerance levels are better than most. Only when I prove my point—that she can’t break free of me, and I can keep her locked up as long as I wish—do I let my grip go and allow her legs to slip back to the floor.
I place my other hand on the couch and cage her in. Our breaths dance together as I stare down at her. The fire she’s throwing in her eyes alone has me hard as fuck.
“Don’t let me stop you. Open those fucking thighs and finish getting yourself off.”
The defiance in her gaze speaks volumes.
“I said open them, woman.”
“And if I don’t?”
With a growl layering my tone, I repeat myself. “One. Last. Fucking. Time. Open. Them. Or you won’t like what comes next, Lil’.”
She twists so that her body is straightened.
She flutters her lashes and smirks at me, which is going to earn her a smack to her ass if she’s not careful.
But then, like a good girl, she finally widens those pretty thighs of hers.
Her hand runs up and down the inside of her thigh before it comes to rest over her pussy.
“Are you just going to watch?”
“Is that what you want?”
She eyes me critically for a moment and shrugs. “And if I want more?”
“You can have whatever your little wicked heart desires, and I think you know it. So what do you want, Lil’?”
The side of her mouth pulls into a broader smile.
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
She considers me for a long time and then says something I didn’t expect to leave her lips.
“Lose the shirt and trade places with me.” As I consider her words, she stands, places her hand on my chest, and backs me up a step.
She takes a moment to place a kiss on my jaw and bites it, which sends a bolt of raw desire through me.
And that’s before she fucking nibbles her way to my ear and whispers, “Before you touch me, I want to learn what you taste like and hear you moan my name.”
Jesus Christ.
She’s a lit end to a trail of gasoline, and goddamn… I can’t wait to see how long and hot she burns. There’s so much fight in her that I know it’ll be a war between sexes, a power play, and one I can’t wait to win.
Within seconds, I’m exactly where she wants me—dressed down, shirt tossed, and on the couch in her place. Reaching out, I take her fingers into mine and pull her down over me. So it’s my lap, my cock, my thighs she’s sitting on.
Going from seeing it to experiencing it firsthand, taking in her sultry floral scent, watching how the lights shimmer over her features, and finally getting close enough to see the striations of gold in her irises, it’s everything.
The sweat on her skin, the golden highlights in her hair, the small details that make her feel more human and less doll-like—it all has my body igniting with need.
Need for her. To touch, taste, and fuck this beautiful creature.
Her fingernails feel like heaven as they trace the ink of my chest tattoo.
She trails her nail over it, learning the artistry put into the design.
Her eyes flick up to mine repeatedly to check on my reaction.
Me? I’m spinning. Her touch both grounds me and has me spiraling.
My heart is fucking racing. Her beauty up close…
any and all imperfections—scars, smeared mascara, a pimple she’s tried to cover up, and a divot in her nose, possibly from an old piercing—add to her complexity.
They are all pieces that make up this stunning creature I’ve captured for a moment in time.
“How long have you had this one?”