“Thank you for enjoying it.” I set down the decanter. “You should know that you make me feel alive. Not again—but for the first time ever.”
He stares at me for a moment, and I can’t quite read the expression. Then he removes his napkin from his lap, places it on the table, and pushes out his chair.
When he turns to me, his gaze is so intense that, instinctively, I take a step back.
“Make a decision right now, Miss Hart.” His voice is deep, throaty. “I cannot take another second without being inside you.” He closes the inches between us. “Consent or no consent.”
I blink, thrown off by the brazen declaration. My pulse skyrockets.
“Right now,” he growls. “Make a decision right now?—”
“Yes,” I breathe out, barely audible. “Please. I want it. I consent—I consent.”
Like two magnets, our mouths collide. Frenzied and unbridled, his tongue thrusts between my lips. My clothes are thrown across the room.
With one sweep of his arm, he clears the table, sending food, plates, and priceless crystal shattering onto the floor.
My head spins as I’m grabbed by the waist and lifted onto the now-cleared table. He pushes himself between my legs, grips my thigh, and with one hand pinning me in place, wraps the other hand around my neck. His eyes are feral.
Goose bumps fly over my body.
“I will not ask for permission again. I will take you whenever I want you. I will not go gentle on you; this will not be sweet, soft, or sensual. I will fuck you exactly how I want to and for how long I want to do it for. Do you understand, Miss Hart?”
“Yes,” I whisper, his words like gasoline to the heat already raging between my legs.
“Good.” He releases me. “Now lean back and spread your legs.”
My heart roars as I lean back on my elbows, lift my bare feet onto the table, and open my legs for him. There is no thinking, no questioning; I don’t care if this is crazy, or wrong, or whatever. I have completely lost myself in this moment, in this man, and it feels so freeing.
He begins undressing. “I want to watch you finger-fuck that beautiful pussy like you did two nights ago.”
Like an obedient puppy, I lick my finger, spread my legs wider, and slowly begin stroking back and forth. I’m already painfully throbbing, my body literally screaming out for this man.
His neck flushes with heat as he kicks off his shoes.
“Fuck it harder.” His voice is now shaking.
He’s as crazed as I am, and I love what I’m doing to him. I feel powerful, wanted, needed. Sexy as hell.
Watching him, I dip my finger in and out, shocked at how wet I am. I add another finger, and another.
The vein down the side of his neck throbs as he slides off his shirt, revealing a chiseled, tanned chest and an insanely sculpted six-pack. His hands tremble as he lowers his pants, then his boxer briefs. His erection springs out, long, thick, and veiny.
“Dear God,” I whisper, thrusting harder now, unable to control my own fingers. I’m already going out of my mind, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
Gloriously naked, Astor picks up the silver dish of chocolate sauce and hovers it over me. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
I bite my lip as he dribbles a thin line onto my chest, between my breasts, down my belly, to my lips where it drips down my hand. The warm, thick liquid spreads over my body, sending tingles rippling over my skin.
The silver dish is tossed over his shoulder. Chocolate splatters across the wall.
“Stop,” he demands, pulling my hand away from between my legs.
“What do you want from me?” I ask.
“Everything.” He shoves me back against the table and pins my wrists above my head. “To start, I want to taste you before I fuck you.”