Page 11 of Hidden Heart

Slowly his finger invaded her, and she arched her hips toward him. He chuckled into her neck as he continued to kiss her. It wasn’t enough; she needed more. Didn’t he understand what he’d started inside her? Now that the fire burnt white hot, he tortured her with his delay.

He rolled her clit between his fingers, driving her mad. She hadn’t had another person touching her in such ways in a very long time. She was certain she would lose her mind before he finished with her. He played her body as though he’d known it for a lifetime, had learned exactly which button to push.

Watching her writhe beneath him in pleasure, he rubbed a bit harder. “You’re close.” The corner of his mouth twisted upward in a sultry smirk, as his fingers became torture instruments. His strokes on her clit lightened until she looked at him, ready to kill.

“This time you may come when you’re ready. In the future, I might not be so kind.” His voice held a promise of wonders she couldn’t grasp while he stroked her in such a way.

He left her for a moment to open the drawer of his nightstand, and she watched with a craving building in her belly as he unrolled a rubber over his thick, long cock. No words could hold a candle to the sight before her. Every inch of the man awakened her senses. The ticking of a clock pounded in her ears while she waited for him to return to her.

The matress dipped when he climbed on the bed, positioning the head of his cock at her entrance. Gripping the comforter in her fists, she arched upward, wanting him to fill her. To cure the ache within her. With measured movements, he inched into her. Inch by tortuous inch and, when the need to have him buried deep within built to the point of pain, he drove into her. She cried out as he withdrew and drove forward again. Her hips arched to meet each of his thrusts. He kissed her hard as they continued to move in unison.

Pulling at his shoulders, she dug her nails into his muscles. An urgency like nothing she’d felt before took over. She wanted all of him. His fingers left a fiery trail as he explored her body, stroking every sensitive inch. The pad of his thumb circled her nipple just before capturing it between his fingers. She let out a hiss at the burning sensation, but reached higher toward him, her need growing.

“So responsive.” He met her gaze. “You are so fucking hot. Spread your legs more, higher.” She bent her knees and drew them toward her chest, taking him in farther.

“Please.”

“Please what? What do you need, Jessica?” He captured her mouth again for a deep kiss, nipping her lower lip. “Tell me what you need.” His hot breath danced against her cheek. “What do you need?”

The fire building inside her seemed to engulf all her senses. Pressure built, and she was positive she would die if it didn’t release. Digging her fingers deeper into his shoulders, she tried to push up at him, but he stilled her with a firm hand on her hip, pinning her to the bed. “You want to come.” He grinned. Damn him.

“Yes!” The hunger she witnessed in his eyes mirrored her own, but he possessed something else, something she no longer wanted, something she freely gave him in that moment—control. “Please, Royce, I need to come.”

Keeping his gaze locked with hers, his fingers found their way to her mound again. “Come for me, Jessica.” And with another flick of his touch, she found her release. As if her body retuned itself to obey him. Her orgasm blasted through her, sending surge after surge of shattering ecstasy to every inch of her being. He captured her scream with his mouth as she bucked up at him, riding the last waves of her orgasm. Every muscle softened, and she melted into the mattress with ragged breath.

Wide, dark eyes stared down at her. Royce wasn’t done with her. His hands moved to her hips, where he held her steady as he buried himself deeper and faster into her. Jessica pulled her legs back more, taking him even deeper. Watching him fuck her became majestic. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched; he was teetering on the very edge he’d just thrown her over. Wanting to please him as much as he’d pleased her, she reached up to his face and ran her fingers over his jaw. An animalistic grunt escaped his lips just before he captured her again in a fiery, possessive kiss. “Fuck.” He released her mouth, increasing his thrusts as his orgasm took him over.

Once he stilled, they lay together, him resting his forehead on her chin, chasing after his breath. Her fingers lightly ran over his shoulders where a thin layer of sweat had accumulated. Set on ignoring all the sensations being relived in her mind, she settled for catching her own breath. After several long, comfortable moments, he kissed her again before rolling away to grab a towel from the nightstand. With the care reserved for fine crystal, he cleaned her. She watched him, confusion lingering in her mind.

He threw her a wink, then headed to the bathroom. No lover in her past had been so concerned afterward. The most caring of the bunch had merely tossed a towel to her on the way to the washroom for his own cleanup.

She sat on the edge of the bed and shook her head. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand told her it was only nine. The sound of the water running drew her attention to the bathroom door.

How could he look at her again after this? How could she look at herself after this? He had spanked her. She’d let him. She hadn’t even hated it.

The two quick slaps to her backside hadn’t been strong enough to hurt, but had been firm enough to raise a few unknown sensations. She’d quickly become aroused and wanted more of him, from him. His confidence wasn’t just something she found positive about his persona, but rather something she drew strength from. Of all the things she wasn’t sure of, there stood one solid truth: Royce was dangerous.

The water turned off, and she ran from the bedroom before he reappeared to find her sitting nude, contemplating her own foolhardiness. She quickly threw on her clothes from the messy pile she’d left in the living room. She was fumbling with the last button of her sweater when he walked into the room wearing a pair of pajama bottoms, his brow wrinkled in frustration.

“What are you doing?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

She hadn’t noticed earlier, but he had a small patch of dark hair on his chest. Good. She didn’t really go for hairy chests. She’d hold onto that flaw.

“Getting dressed.” She gestured to her clothing, slipped her feet into her shoes, then ran her fingers through her hair.

“I can see that.” His voice was flat. “But why?”

“I was cold,” she blurted out, waving her hand.

“And that’s three.” He sighed heavily, dropping his arms to his sides.

She stopped and studied him. He didn’t appear ready to pounce on her, but she wasn’t entirely sure. Worse yet, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted him to.

“You said you wouldn’t punish me,” she reminded him, still wiggling her right foot into her shoe.

“That’s right.” He sighed again. “But I think we should talk.”

“Oh…I don’t think that’s a great idea,” she half-laughed, half-huffed while she searched out her purse and coat.

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