8. Paige #2
I should be furious. I should be fighting him, screaming at him, doing something to make him see reason. But all I can do is stare into those emerald eyes and feel the truth settle over me like a weight.
I don't want to leave.
And that terrifies me more than anything.
The world tilts as Paxton lifts me, his arms like steel bands around my waist. My breath catches, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he carries me out of the room and down the hall.
The suitcase, the lawyers, the weight of everything I was trying to leave behind… it all fades into the background, drowned out by the thunder of my pulse in my ears.
His bedroom is dim, the curtains drawn. The air smells like him—leather and cedar and something darker, something that makes my skin prickle with anticipation.
He sets me down on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering on my hips before sliding up to cup my face. His thumbs brush over my cheekbones, rough and possessive, and I lean into the touch despite myself.
"You're staying," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. It's not a question.
I don't answer. I can't. My throat is too tight, my thoughts too tangled.
His fingers slide into my hair, tilting my head back as his mouth crashes down on mine.
The kiss is hungry, desperate, his tongue sweeping into my mouth like he's trying to brand me from the inside out.
I whimper against him, my hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders, my nails digging into the hard muscle beneath his shirt.
When he pulls back, his breath is ragged, his eyes dark with something primal. "Take off your clothes."
The command sends a jolt of heat straight to my core. I hesitate, my fingers trembling as I reach for the hem of my shirt. His gaze burns into me, unrelenting, and I swallow hard before pulling the fabric over my head. The cool air hits my skin, making my nipples tighten into aching peaks.
Paxton's eyes drop to my chest, his jaw clenching. "Bra next."
I reach behind me, my fingers fumbling with the clasp. The lace falls away, and his breath hitches, his hands coming up to cup my breasts. His thumbs brush over my nipples, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me. I gasp, my back arching into his touch.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he growls, his voice rough. His hands slide down my sides, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my jeans. "These too."
I lift my hips, letting him pull the denim down my legs. He tosses them aside, his gaze raking over me like he's memorizing every inch. His fingers trace the lace edge of my panties, and I shiver, my breath coming faster.
"These stay on," he murmurs, his voice thick with promise. "For now."
Before I can react, he's pushing me back onto the bed, his body covering mine. His mouth finds my neck, his teeth grazing over my pulse point, and I moan, my fingers tangling in his hair. His hands slide down my arms, pinning my wrists above my head as he kisses his way down my body.
He reaches to his bedside drawer, searching for something.
The silk scarf is cool against my skin as he wraps it around my wrists, tying them to the headboard.
The fabric is soft, but the knot is firm, leaving me no room to pull free.
My breath hitches, my heart pounding in my chest as I test the bonds.
"Paxton—"
His mouth crashes into mine, swallowing my gasp as his tongue claims every inch. The taste of him floods my senses, and I arch into him, my bound wrists straining against the silk. His hands slide down my sides, rough and possessive, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
Then his lips leave mine, trailing a scorching path down my throat. His teeth graze my pulse point, sending a shudder through me, before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. I whimper, my hips lifting off the bed, desperate for more.
His mouth moves lower, his breath hot against my skin as he reaches my breasts. His tongue flicks over one nipple, teasing, before he closes his lips around it and sucks.
A cry tears from my throat, my back arching as pleasure shoots straight to my core. He groans, the vibration sending another wave of heat through me, and his fingers pinch the other nipple, rolling it between his calloused fingers.
"Paxton." His name is a plea, a prayer, my voice trembling with need.
He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against my skin. "You like that, don't you?" His teeth scrape over my nipple, and I gasp, my body trembling. "You like being tied up, at my mercy."
His hands slide down my arms, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin of my inner elbows before moving lower. His mouth follows, his lips leaving a trail of fire down my chest, my stomach, my hips.
When his teeth graze over my hipbone, I gasp, my back arching off the bed. He takes off my underwear before his hands slide under my ass, lifting me to his mouth, and then his tongue is on me, hot and wet and relentless.
I cry out, my hips bucking against his face as he licks and sucks, his fingers digging into my flesh.
"Fuck, you taste so good," he growls against me, his voice vibrating through my core. His tongue flicks over my clit, and I whimper, my body trembling. "So sweet."
His words send a fresh wave of heat through me, my skin flushing with need. His fingers slide inside me, curling against that spot that makes my vision blur, and I moan, my hips rocking against his hand.
"Please," I whimper, my voice breaking. "Paxton, please…"
He pulls back just enough to look up at me, his lips glistening with my arousal. "Please what?" His voice is rough, his eyes burning into mine. "You want me to stop?"
I shake my head, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "No. Don't stop."
His smile is slow, wicked. "I don't intend to."
Then his mouth is on me again, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, driving me higher and higher.
My body coils tight, my muscles trembling as pleasure builds inside me, sharp and relentless.
I cry out, my back arching off the bed as I come, my vision whiting out for a heartbeat before I collapse back against the mattress, my breath ragged.
Paxton doesn't give me time to recover. He's on his feet in an instant, his hands working at his belt, his eyes locked on mine. The sound of his zipper is loud in the quiet room, and then he's pushing his pants down, his cock springing free, thick and hard and glistening at the tip.
My breath catches, my body tensing with anticipation.
He climbs onto the bed, his hands sliding under my ass as he lifts me to meet him. The head of his cock presses against me, and I gasp, my hips tilting up to take him in.
"Fuck, you're tight," he growls, his voice strained. His hands tighten on my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pushes inside me, inch by inch. The stretch is almost too much, my body struggling to accommodate him, but the pleasure is undeniable, sharp and sweet.
When he's fully seated inside me, he pauses, his breath coming in harsh gasps. His eyes lock on mine, dark and possessive. "You feel that?" His voice is a rough whisper. "You feel how deep I am?"
I nod, my breath hitching as he pulls out slowly before slamming back into me. The force of it makes me cry out, my body rocking with the impact.
"That's it," he growls, his hands tightening on my hips. "Take it. Take all of me."
He sets a punishing rhythm, his hips snapping against mine, his cock filling me over and over again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with my moans and his grunts of pleasure.
"Fuck, Paige," he growls, his voice rough. "You're so fucking perfect. So tight."
His words send a fresh wave of heat through me, my body coiling tight around him. His thumb finds my clit, rubbing in tight circles, and I cry out, my back arching off the bed.
"That's it," he growls. "Come for me. Milk my cock with that tight little pussy."
The dirty words push me over the edge, my body shuddering as pleasure crashes over me. I cry out, my vision blurring as my orgasm tears through me, my muscles clenching around him.
Paxton groans, his hips stuttering as he comes, his cock pulsing inside me. His fingers dig into my hips, holding me in place as he fills me, his seed hot and thick.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. The only sound in the room is our ragged breathing, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.
Paxton's hands slide up my body, his fingers brushing over my skin as he leans down to press a soft kiss to my lips. "You're not going anywhere," he murmurs, his voice rough but tender. "You're mine."
I don't argue. I can't.
Because the truth is, I don't want to leave.
Not now. Not ever.