Page 30 of Baby I'm Yours

“Brat.” He rewards me with a sharp smack to my ass that makes me gasp and my pussy throb. “Always have to have the last word.”

“You like it,” I say as he jerks my panties to one side and glides a single finger through my slick, swollen folds. I add as my lashes flutter, “You like it a lot.”

“I do.” His voice is low, gravelly.

Just the sound of it is enough to make my nipples tight as he drags my panties down.

They catch on my thighs, and he roughly knees my legs wider, summoning a hungry sound from low in my chest. It echoes in the quiet air between us, igniting a heat that spreadslike wildfire. Soon his hands are everywhere, jerking my tank top down to bare my breasts, somehow managing to tease my nipples even as he drags his zipper down, freeing his cock.

I feel it bob free, hot and heavy against my inner thigh and shudder with the force of how much I want him.

“I like a lot of things about you,” he murmurs, teeth dragging over the skin on my shoulder. “That’s the problem.”

My heart stutters in my chest, a dangerous, hopeful beating that threatens to unravel all my plans to hold this man at an emotional distance. But before I can fully process his admission, let alone how I feel about it, he glides two fingers inside me from behind, sending electricity rocketing across my skin.

I gasp, my head falling back as I call his name. Instantly his mouth is on my neck, whispering filthy things into my ear as he works me with his hand. This isn’t teasing or foreplay, this is a demand that I submit, that I give him the orgasm he’s calling forth like a necromancer bringing someone back from the dead.

I feel like I’m back from the dead with him, my long dry spell and all the disappointing lovers of the past few years forgotten as he reminds me why sex is the best thing ever.

Especially sex with him…

“Please…” The word escapes in a breathy moan, my hips rocking urgently against his hand, seeking more friction, more pressure, more of him. My skin feels too tight, my body coiled like a spring, ready to snap at any moment. But I don’t want to come on his hand. “I need your cock.”

“My cock?” His voice is rough, and it sends a fresh wave of heat rushing from my pussy to coat his fingers. He leans over me, his chest pressing against my back, the fabric of his suit a little scratchy, foreign and erotic against my bare skin. “Because you love cock, in general? And mine in particular?”

“Yes,” I manage, my head spinning. I claw my hands into the crevice between the cushions, fighting the orgasm threateningto overpower me. “I love your cock, and I want to come on it. Please.”

“I love it when you beg, brat,” he murmurs, his free hand tangling in my hair. He pulls my head back, forcing me to arch against him, my body bowing under his control. “I love it when you’re so desperate that all your pride goes up in smoke.”

“Please,” I beg again, whimpering now.

His grip is firm, unyielding, as he holds me in my bowed position beneath him, sending a thrill of submission racing through me. I’m completely at his mercy, and I fucking love it. I love being his brat and his good girl, the woman putting him through his paces and the slut who arches against his cock, shamelessly begging for him to take her like he means it.

“Please, God, Hunter,” I beg, gasping for air as I fight the need to spiral out with everything in me. “Please fuck me, please. I’ll do anything, I’ll be good. I’ll be so good, whatever you want, but please!”

“Good girl,” he says, replacing his hand with his cock and filling me with one deep thrust hard enough to send me scooting across the cushions.

I’m so desperate for him that I sob with relief. “Yes, oh, yes.”

He glides in and out again, even deeper this time, until he hits the end of me and we both groan. And then he takes me hard and deep and wild, exactly like I want him to,needhim to.

His hands grip my hips hard, his fingers digging into my skin as he pulls me back against him, claiming me with a raw hunger that drives me crazy. His rhythm is relentless, each stroke hitting that perfect spot inside me that makes my vision blur and my knees weaken.

I can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in my core, a pressure building that threatens to shatter me into a thousand pieces.

“So close, so close,” I chant as the wave builds to dizzying heights inside me.

His breath is hot on my shoulder as he breathes, “Good. I want to feel you come on me before I fill you, Elaina. God, you fucking destroy me. I’m going to come so hard inside you. Fuck, Elaina. Fuck!”

His hand moves to my front, rubbing my clit with rough strokes of his fingers that obliterate me in two strokes. I come screaming his name, screaming to God, screaming to who the hell knows what as my body pulses and squeezes and comes for him, pulling him into the storm with me.

He utters a similarly abandoned cry for mercy to whatever gods did this thing to us—this crazy, perfect, wicked, possibly doomed and dangerous thing—and comes in thick, hot jets deep inside me. I can feel him filling me and it is every bit as hot as it was in the lifeguard stand, the thrill of knowing there’s nothing between us but skin drawing my bliss out for what feels like ages.

Eons.

I don’t know how long we lie trembling together on his couch, but by the time I finally swallow and glance up, the clock on the wall reads nearly an hour later than I expect.

I curse softly.

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