Page 48 of Bound By Revenge

His hands glide from my shoulders to my upper arms, gripping firmly as if to restrain me. “Kat…” he exhales, his voice unsteady, utterly failing to sound even remotely unaffected.

“If you want me to stop,” I whisper, echoing his words, “just say the word.”

His grip tightens, his narrowed eyes locking on mine, but his lips don’t form the words.

I grin, savoring the power shift. “That’s what I thought,” I say, chuckling as I throw his earlier smugness back at him.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game,” he murmurs, his hands trailing deliberately down my arms. Slowly, they settle on my hips, holding me in place. "One you won't win.”

“Jealous I’m better at it?” I counter, my tone as sharp as his grip.

His brow arches again, this time with a mix of annoyance and intrigue.

“Is that what you think?” he asks, his voice soft but carrying an edge that makes my breath catch.

“It’s what I know.” I shift again, feeling his hard length pressing against me.

His eyes lock onto mine, fingers tracing my hips, down my thighs, until he reaches the hem of my skirt. Without hesitation, he yanks it up and moves my panties aside. I hold his gaze, breath hitching as he explores me with his fingers.

Then, just as abruptly, he withdraws, leaving me aching as my underwear snaps back into place. I groan in frustration at the loss, the ache between my thighs sharp and demanding. His eyes drop to his fingers, glistening with my wetness, before lifting back to mine. A slow, cocky smirk spreads across his face.

“You’re so fucking wet,kiska,” he murmurs, his tone thick with arrogance. “Seems I affect you as much as you affect me.”

“Maybe. But I’m better at using it to my advantage. Give me half a chance, and I’ll have you eating out of the palm of my hand.”

Leaning in, I brush my lips against his ear. He groans softly, his control slipping for just a moment.

“I don’t need tricks to keep you under my control,” he murmurs darkly. “I’ve already got you exactly where I want you.”

"We'll see about that," I whisper before trailing a languid, open-mouthed kiss along his neck.

A raspy breath escapes his lips, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. Still, he resists me. So, I press harder, moving my hips deliberately against the length of his cock.

His breath catches in his throat, sharp and shallow. Encouraged, I deepen the urgency of my kisses, letting my lips and tongue linger against his skin. His scent—masculine, heady, and completely intoxicating—threatens to overwhelm my resolve. It takes all my willpower not to let desire take over completely, but I hold on.

This moment will set the tone for everything that follows, and I can’t lose sight of that. To control of him, I first need to stay in control of myself.

I increase the tempo of my movements against him, feeling his cock swell even harder beneath me. He pants against my ear, the heat of his breath grazing my skin, sending shivers down my spine. Lust coils tight inside me, but I bite back the urge to give in.

Every gasp, every tremor he can’t suppress is proof I’m on the right track. His body’s betrayal encourages me. It's tough to say what victory looks like in this situation, but I'll recognize it when I see it.

Taking his hand, I guide it to my breast, grinding harder against him. “Touch me, Nik. Please,” I whisper, my voice trembling just enough to shatter his control.

A groan rumbles in his chest as his rough, calloused hand closes over my breast, his touch firm and unyielding. My nipple hardens beneath his fingers, and he responds by pinching it, drawing a cry from me. That seems to be all the encouragement he needs; his other hand moves to claim my other breast, his grip possessive, consuming.

He teeters on the edge, and I know I have him right where I want him. To push him over, I spread my thighs, grab the hem of my skirt, and pull it up to my waist. Slipping my hand beneath the fabric, I tug my panties aside and touch myself, spreading my wetness as I rock against him.

A guttural groan escapes him as he presses his mouth to my neck, his teeth sinking into the sensitive spot where my shoulder meets my throat. The pressure sends my body spiraling closer to release, but I hold back, refusing to give in.

His breaths grow erratic, his fingers teasing my nipples mercilessly. There isn’t much tenderness left in him as his hipsmove in time with mine. He’s close—so close. One little push and we’re off… The trick will be keeping myself from falling first.

I finger myself, reaching back with my other hand to pull his mouth to the spot he just bit. He doesn’t resist, his open-mouthed kisses rough and unrelenting. His tongue flicks against my skin, almost enough to undo me.

I cry out his name in pleasure, and it almost pushes him past his breaking point. His caresses grow rougher, his thrusts more urgent, fueling the hunger burning deep in my core. Through the haze of my impending orgasm, it hits me—his shaky breathes, strained groans have been telling me his secret all along: to push him over the edge, I have to let him take me there first.

“Nik,” I pant, my voice trembling with need, but I refuse to break now—not when I’m so close to winning. “I want to come for you.”

His breath catches at my words, a low, pained groan following, and I know I’ve hit my mark.

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