Page 71 of Yearn

Fierce satisfaction coursed through me at her response. I was a few seconds away from ripping off her clothes and taking her against the wall to sate the awful, sucking need to be inside of her, but somehow, I wrestled back my control and eased back on the kiss.

I studied her swollen, wet mouth, and the raw need in her blue eyes and knew I’d give her anything. Whatever she wanted and craved would be hers. But that meant I couldn’t be weak and take her too soon. I’d wring out every ounce of pleasure for both of us, until it melded into a sweet, beautiful pain that made it even better.

“I want you to take off your top.”

It took a bit for the fog to clear from her eyes. Landon hesitated, as if wondering if she should fight me, but the kiss had obviously forced her body to be in charge. She reached for the hem of her tight shirt and dragged it over her head, tossing it to the floor. Her chin lifted in pride as she stood in her black lacy bra that barely covered her hard nipples. I took my time looking at her, refusing to say a word.

“Did you already stall out?” she asked snidely. “You saw more when I was in my bikini. Can we move on?”

I wondered if she knew how her smart-ass mouth turned me on. I loved a woman with sass, who’d challenge me with every step so I could earn her surrender. Fire flowed in my blood and made me feel more alive than I had in forever. “You weren’t mine before,” I pointed out. “It’s a different type of looking.”

“I’m not yours now.”

I smirked. “Yes, you are. For as long as I allow it.”

“You’re such a?—”

“Lose the bra. And do it slow.”

She glared at me. Her cheeks flushed. She reached behind and unhooked the bra. I figured she’d rip it off fast but instead, she allowed the fabric to slowly drop inch by inch, revealing her naked breasts in teasing glimpses. Finally, the lace snagged on her tight, cherry-red nipples and released. I devoured her with my gaze, noting how the longer I looked, the more aroused she got.

Oh, yeah. Landon liked to be on display for my eyes. I couldn’t wait to see what other things turned her on that she’d never known. My hand itched to smack her ass and her pussy to see if a sting of pain made her wet and squirmy.

“Anything else, your highness?”

She was trying to be bratty but I recognized the tremble in her voice and smelled her arousal. I refused to respond and let the silence lengthen.

“Take off the skirt now.”

I deepened my voice in a command that brooked no refusal. She studied my face, looking for any weakness, but I stared back with a stony glare. Finally, she unzipped the back, wriggled her broad hips, and allowed the miniscule fabric to pool at her feet. With simple feminine grace, she stepped out and kicked it to the side.

Landon stood before me in a black lace thong. The barely there fabric string caught high on her hips and highlighted her pussy rather than hiding it. I made sure to keep my gaze on the tiny triangle of fabric, allowing her to feel the heat between us without touch. She shifted from foot to foot. A pink flush darkened her pale skin. A light sprinkle of freckles scattered over her chest. Her thighs and hips were luscious and full. Her tits swelled under my visual attention. She deserved to be worshipped in all forms rather than dragged to the main event, and I intended to show her how good allowing me to be in charge could feel.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Landon.”

She sucked in her breath, seemingly surprised by the compliment.

“Now, I want you to lie on my bed. Hands up over your head. Legs spread.”

She looked at the bed, then back at me. “What are you going to do to me?” she asked softly, her gaze spearing mine.

I smiled real slow.

“Everything.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Landon

Listen to Tonight I’m F—You

by Enrico Iglesias

My body was a volcano, thick lava flowing through my veins and throbbing between my thighs. The barbed banter between us only squeezed the tension tighter, until the literal air shimmered with a heavy heat and practically dripped with sex.

I’d given a lot of blow jobs in my life but I’d never been so wet I could have come. Especially from servicing a man who pulled my hair and commanded me to get on my knees. It was as if Adam knew every one of my dark fantasies and intended to give them to me, as long as they were on his terms. He matched every one of my insults, pushed my boundaries, and challenged every move I made to snatch control.

Yes, I was fucked up. I was a woman who demanded to be in charge, yet needed a man strong enough to deny me; to make me beg; to force me to submit in ways I’d never imagined.

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