Page 51 of Love so Hot

My gaze drops pointedly to his crotch and I raise a challenging brow. "Your turn."

He grins, slow and predatory, as he rises to his feet. "Is that how it is, darling? I give you what you want, and now you think you can demand the same of me?"

His fingers trace a leisurely path up my inner thigh, and I fight back a shiver of mingled desire and annoyance. Trust Larry to turn even this into some kind of power play.

"It's only fair," I retort, trying to ignore the way his touch is reigniting the fire in my veins. "Or are you only interested in taking your pleasure and leaving me wanting?"

"On the contrary, your pleasure is my pleasure. I simply prefer to give it on my own terms." His hand cups me briefly, a fleeting pressure that makes me ache for more. "When you've learned patience, perhaps I'll give you another taste of what you clearly can't get enough of."

I scoff, even as heat floods my cheeks. "Keep dreaming. You're going to have to work a lot harder than that if you expect me to come begging for your favors."

"Is that a challenge?" His eyes flash with competitiveness, and suddenly I find myself pinned against the wall, his hard length pressed insistently against my hip. "Because you should know by now that I never back down from a challenge. Especially one as tempting as this."

My breath catches at the desire in his gaze, the unspoken promise of pleasure and torment in equal measure. I know I should push him away, make it clear I won't be manipulated so easily into another encounter like this. But the truth is, I want him just as badly as he wants me.

And we've always loved a good fight.

His mouth crashes into mine, hungry and demanding. I meet him with equal fervor, our tongues tangling in a battle for dominance as my hands roam across the planes of his chest. Hegroans when I tweak a nipple, the sound vibrating against my lips.

"Still think you can resist me?" he rasps, dragging his mouth to my neck and nipping at the sensitive skin.

I gasp, tilting my head to give him better access. "You'll have to do better than that."

He growls and spins me around, bending me over the back of the sofa. The smack of his hand against my rear makes me cry out in surprise, the sting quickly fading into heat. "Careful what you wish for, wild child."

My heartbeat thrums wildly, caught between apprehension and arousal. I've unleashed the beast inside him, and now there's no telling how rough he'll play.

The sound of a zipper sliding open, foil crinkling. "Since you want to play so badly..."

I clench in anticipation, ready to feel the delicious burn of him entering me. But instead of his cock, something cold and slippery probes between my folds, circling my entrance in a maddening tease. I squirm against the sofa, trying to gain more friction, but he holds me in place with his other hand.

"Getting impatient?" Amusement laces his voice as he continues his ministrations, slick fingers sliding over every inch of my sex but never quite pushing in. "Not yet, sweetheart. I'm going to make you beg for it."

I grit my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Two can play at this game.

When his fingers brush my clit, I moan loudly, rocking back to increase the pressure. He chuckles, withdrawing completely and leaving me empty. I whimper at the loss, hating how much power he wields over me.

A sharp smack on my rear. "What was that? I didn't quite hear you."

Bastard. I swallow my pride, pushing past the embarrassment heating my cheeks. "Please..."

Another hit, harder this time. "Please what?"

"Please fuck me!" The words burst out of me in a desperate cry. All pretense of resistance flees, replaced by a ravenous need to feel him inside me. To be filled and claimed and taken until I can no longer think or breathe. Somewhere above me I hear the crinkle of a wrapper dropping to the ground.

"That's my girl." His hands grip my hips, and with one hard thrust he's sheathed to the hilt within me.

We moan in unison, a perfect harmony of pleasure and pain. He gives me no time to adjust, setting a brutal pace that leaves me gasping. His fingers dig into my flesh, pulling me back to meet each savage stroke. The coil of heat in my belly tightens with every snap of his hips, driving me higher and higher.

Through the haze of sensations, I'm dimly aware of the litany of filth spilling from his lips. Degrading, possessive, toe-curlingly erotic. Marking me as his in words as he does with his body.

The crest looms, and I tumble over with a broken cry. His thrusts grow erratic, chasing his own release. With a guttural groan, he shudders against me, his warmth flooding my depths.

We collapse in a tangle of limbs, harsh breaths mingling as we descend from the heights of passion. No words are needed in this moment. The only language that matters is written in touches and sweat-soaked bodies. And in this, we have spoken volumes.

When the storm has passed and left us shipwrecked in its wake, we lie in a tangle of limbs on the couch that’s too small to contain the magnitude of what just happened.

I'm trying to catch my breath, trying to make sense of the jumble of emotions that whirl inside me. My heart still hammers with the aftermath of our clash turned carnal, and I glance over at Lawrence. He's looking at the ceiling, his face unreadable, but I see the rise and fall of his chest slow to a more natural rhythm.

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