Page 34 of Burn With Me

Caught up in the moment, we’re both frozen for a beat before he reaches up and grabs my wrists, hauling me up his body and into his lap. Jackson unabashedly lifts his hips, pressing his hard length into me before his leg finds its way between mine.

The air catches in my throat as he places my wrists on the pillow behind him, stretching my body out over his. My nipples harden painfully as that feeling between my legs shoots straight to my clit. Our lips are mere inches apart. The surprise melts from my face as he moves his leg, rubbing against me. My body arches into his with its own volition, and suddenly, I couldn’t care less about what a player he is.

If Jackson tries to fuck me right now, I like to think I’ll say no. But with every passing second, it looks more like I’ll be putty in his very experienced hands.

“Your body seems to get it,” he whispers as his hands let go of my wrists to trail lightly down my arms.

His scent engulfs my senses—sharp spices, sandalwood, and a warm, musky vanilla that wraps around my body andsettles into my skin. I’m breathless, eyes fluttering closed as his hands move further south to my butt. Gripping it in his hands, he draws me down onto him as his hips shift upward. The way he presses against me, the way his warm breath caresses my face. The way I feel as though I could come just by him doing that again.

It’s too much.

It’s too much to feel forhim.

All of it overwhelms me, and I sit up abruptly. “Yeah, well, my body is a traitor.”

His hands fall away, a reproachful sigh escaping his lips as I scramble to remove myself from his body and the couch. Flying through his home, part of me feels relief that he lets me go without any attempt at getting me to stay.

As the elevator closes behind me, I can’t help but recognize that part of me is also feeling the sting of disappointment.

There are more women being led to rooms in the Dreamers wing than I’ve ever seen in the Confessional one.

Vibrant, deep pink roses fill the vases in this hall. Their fragrance thick and sweet, but not cloying.

My regular security guard walks in front of me, taking me to my new room, and I appreciate that we are assigned personal guards, instead of the guards only being assigned to the wings. For some reason, it makes me feel safer—even though I know I have nothing to fear from my stranger.

I’m wearing another slip tonight. Emerald green satin with black see-through lace throughout the top. Instead of going commando, I put on a flimsy thong—though I might as well be wearing nothing.

Memories from the first time I touched myself in front of him surfaced while I was picking out my outfit. If somethinglike that were to happen again, it’s easier to cover myself with a slip than an intricate set of lingerie.

My nerves feel frayed, each ending lit up and sending electric pulses through my body.

Hyperaware that I’m seconds away from touching him.

Still overstimulated from my afternoon at Jackson’s.

The anticipation has been building all day, even though Jackson’s words haunt me. “If I have to go without for an entire month. So. Do. You.”

There’s no part of me that feels guilty for this, though.

As the guard opens the door to let me in, I hold my breath and step over the threshold, letting it out as he shuts it quietly behind me. My stranger is standing on the other side of the room, hands in the pockets of his black dress pants.

There’s a large circular bed between us, draped in black silk with multiple pillows. Polished black tables line the walls, nothing on their surfaces, but I know the drawers hold an array of toys and instruments used for creating pleasure.

Or pain.

The thrill of it all sends goosebumps down my arms and legs. Walking further into the room, my stranger’s eyes roam my body, his throat bobbing as he swallows. Finally, he removes his hands from his pockets and begins to walk around the bed.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmurs.

“So have I.”

He stalks toward me like a big cat on the prowl. Sleek, graceful.

Ready to pounce.

“Get on the bed,” he quietly commands, his accent nearly causing me to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“What? No small talk tonight?” Shooting him a smile, my hands nervously play with my hem as my feet stay planted to the floor.

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