Page 71 of Night Shift

I heaved her forward, shouldering her weight, and dragged her ass to the armchair in the living room where she’d been sitting when I’d first come downstairs to talk. I slung her, butt-side-up, over the arm of the chair, pinning both of her wrists in one hand above her head.

“This isn’t about your pleasure; it’s about mine,” I hissed in her ear. “Tonight, you’re gonna need a safe word. Say it now!”

Samantha’s legs were shaking, but even so, she turned her head and gave me a coy little smile, daring me to unleash my worst. That was when I realized I’d been a pawn to her queen in this game of hers since the moment I’d given her unfettered access to my world—fuuuck!

“Say it now, Samantha!” I threatened.

She inhaled deeply, wincing in pain, and hissed out, “As you wish.” Those three tantalizing words hung in the air between us, causing my dick to jerk to attention. A red haze fell over my vision, and I lost all control.

I jerked down her little cotton shorts, baring her lily-white ass to me. Still holding her wrists in one hand, I smacked her with brutal force. She cried out and tried to move away, but I denied her escape. A raised red handprint appeared on her ass, and I couldn’t resist giving her a matching one on the other cheek. She jerked against the cushion of the chair—as if that would somehow get her away from the pain—and whimpered softly.

Before either of us could take a breath, I struck her three more times.

“Please, Atticus,” she gasped, but whether it was a plea for more or a plea for mercy, I didn’t know. And in that moment, I didn’t care. All that mattered was the heat of her body, the feel of her beneath me, and the intoxicating power coursing through my veins.

“Shut up,” I growled, yanking down my sweatpants just enough to free my throbbing cock.

I slammed into her pussy in one merciless thrust, and a guttural moan escaped her lips. “Don’t you fucking dare move your hands,” I ordered, my voice strained with lust and fury.

She shuddered beneath me but complied, so I released her wrists. The sass I’d grown to love was momentarily gone. As much as I hated to admit it, I liked her rattled like this—but I wanted some fight still left in her.

With my hands finally free, I wasted no time yanking off her shirt and mine, tearing the fabric in my haste. I kicked away my pants, which had tangled around my ankles, desperate to rid myself of any hindrances, leaving us both naked, panting, and heated. Nothing else mattered except getting closer to her. I leaned over her back and pounded into her savagely. My fingers dug into her hips, and I pulled her closer to me, then shoved her back again as our bodies became slick with sweat. Each thrust drove her hard against the side of the armchair and into the soft cushions. The sound of our flesh colliding filled the room, echoing off the walls like a primal drumbeat.

“Atticus…please…” she whimpered, her voice barely audible over our ragged breathing. A part of my subconscious knew I’d probably regret this later, but for some reason, that potential for regret didn’t concern me right now.

All at once, I noticed that Samantha wasn’t only taking my harsh strokes—she was returning them, meeting my brutality with her own fierce energy. Her moans grew louder, turning into desperate cries, until finally, she screamed out, her orgasm ripping through her body like wildfire.

The sensation of her walls clenching around my cock sent me hurtling over the edge, and an explosive orgasm surged through me. At that moment, I grabbed a fistful of her gorgeous red hair, yanking her head around to force her to look at me. “Now, that’s a good girl,” I growled, my voice heavy with satisfaction as I withdrew from her.

Sam’s cheeks flushed crimson, and in a flash, she turned around and leaped into my arms, straddling my waist. Her eyes, wild and stormy, locked onto mine as she begged in a hoarse cry, “Say it again…please…”

Chapter nineteen

“Such a good girl,” Atticus whispered, his words heavy with dark promise. I’d never seen the spark of true desire in a man’s eyes directed at me before. It was almost laughable to think that the same grumpy doctor who had barely acknowledged my existence that first chaotic day in the emergency department would end up making me feel like I was his everything—body and soul. The heat of his hands wrapped around my thighs as he pressed me firmly against him, and I couldn’t hold back my need for him any longer.

In a swift move, I grabbed his face between my hands, crushing my lips against his in a fierce kiss. I took control, pushing my tongue into his mouth. His full lips tasted like sin and salvation in equal measure, and his tongue danced with mine in an erotic ballet that left us both panting. Atticus groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating straight down to my core. His grip on my thighs tightened, and I pulled him closer, the heat rising between us. I bit down on his lower lip, drawing a little bit of blood. The coppery taste sent a jolt of excitement through me.

I pulled away from him. “Consider that payback,” I said, smirking at the look of surprise on his face.

“Feisty,” he responded, his eyes narrowing. He stepped around to the sofa, threw me down onto it, and leaned over me. “I’m going to fuck that attitude right out of you,” he growled.

Tilting my chin up impudently, I raised an eyebrow and gave him a provocative glance. With my feet on the floor and my ass in the seat, I slowly, deliberately spread my knees wide to the edges of the sofa, baring my soaked entrance to him. Biting my lip, I dared him to take what he wanted.

“Damn, that pussy looks so fucking tasty. Mmm, she’s so pretty.” His deep, rumbling timbre rolled over my skin as his eyes darkened. He winked at me, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Don’t move an inch,” he commanded before striding into the kitchen.

My heart pounded in anticipation as I listened to him rummaging through drawers. Moments later, he returned carrying a jar of coconut oil and a wooden spoon with a stainless steel head—one I recognized from his collection of flatware.

“Interesting choice.” I laughed, watching as he placed the items on the coffee table and lit a trio of pillar candles. Then he dropped to his knees directly between my legs, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Are you ready to play?”

“Hmmm,” I replied, breathy with anticipation.

He wasted no time sliding his hands up my thighs and bringing his mouth to my folds. His tongue flicked out, teasing my swollen cleft before dipping lower to taste my wetness. His fingers trailed over my inner thighs, lightly brushing against my sensitive skin. I shuddered when he slid two fingers inside me, pumping them in and out—in and out—in and out.

Lifting his mouth away from me, he watched me closely, taking in my reactions and adjusting his movements accordingly. His fingers dove inside my soaking core and curled upward, pressing against my inner wall, finding the rough texture of that special spot within. A sudden pressure on my abdomen made me gasp. My eyes shot open to see his palm pressing down on my lower belly, intensifying the sensations within me.

“You like that, don’t you? Your wetness is filling my palm. Mmm, fuuck, if you only knew how badly I want to sink my thick girth into your tightness.”

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