Page 53 of Forbidden Vengeance

Elena pulls back and scowls at me. “I’ll talk whenever I damn well please. And I sure as hell don’t take orders fromyou.”

Her expression is furious and glorious.

“Orders?” I can’t keep the dark delight from my voice, wouldn’t even if I tried. “Careful, little planner. I can think of some orders you might enjoy.”

She only glares, her fingers tugging sharply at my hair—and the pain sends electricity down my spine, making me instantly hard.

“Unless you’d rather go back to Anthony,” I say, voice trailing off—no longer caring how obvious my want for her is, because the fire in her eyes is intoxicating. Like the finest whiskey, burning through my veins.

“Shut up,” she snarls through her teeth.

My hands rise to anchor themselves on her hips. As my fingers slide under the T-shirt to brush against bare skin, she slowly releases my hair, her wrists draping around my neck.

“Then turn around, little planner,” I growl. My fingers curl around her waist, and I push so that she begins to turn. “And put your hands flat on the dresser.”

She scoffs, but she plants her feet apart as I gently press her towards the dresser with a hand on the small of her back. She rolls her eyes but then deliberately raises one hand to set it upon the dresser. The other in front of her.

I wrap myself around her, chest against her shoulder blades and her arms bracketed by mine. I tuck my chin into the curve between her shoulder and neck, eyes falling to where my hands cover hers, and our fingers interlock.

Elena sighs, leaning back against me, and then my lips drag across her neck, desperate to coax out more of that sound. My tongue sweeps across her pulse and she leans her head to the side, allowing me more access.

“Good girl,” I whisper, voice falling across the bit of skin glistening in front of my lips.

One of my hands drifts—two fingertips tracing up over the back of her hand, her wrist, up her arm until it meets her elbow, and then wraps around to her waist. I gather the fabric of her shirt in one hand, teeth and tongue scraping across her neck and the corner of her jaw, and I begin to lift her shirt up.

Elena’s hand jerks, going to help me pull at the hem of her shirt, but then I press my teeth into the side of her neck. Just enough that the heel of her palm falls back down against the surface of the dresser. I continue, this time using both hands, and inch my fingers beneath her shirt. Across her stomach. The fabric bunches up around my wrists as I lift them higher.

My fingertips have just touched the underside of her breasts when a low whimper bursts from her lips, unbidden. Her hands are shaking from just how hard she is pressing the pads of her fingers into the wood.

I scrape my thumb along the line of her ribs, and when she shivers, I press my hips forward. Her mouth falls open in a gasp.

“Let me touch you,” she rushes out. She turns her head, trying to catch my eye, but my lips are still pressing against her neck, my eyes downcast. Watching as one of my fingers trails up the center of her body towards her breasts.

“I sure as hell don’t take orders from you,” I whisper, throwing her words back at her.

She either glares at me or rolls her eyes but then my hand curves around her bare breast, fingers brushing over the peach-colored nipple and a freckle just beneath it. I grind my hips against her ass again, and she groans.

Beneath my touch, her nipple hardens and then both my hands are over her breasts, kneading them while my mouth lavishes attention to her neck. Her hips begin to roll, ricocheting off the edge of the dresser and back against me. My pants areuncomfortablytight as my dick hardens.

I can almost feel it—a thread fraying and all too close to snapping. I’d come in my pants if I don’t get myself under fucking control soon.

But control is an unattainable thing. I’m growing feverish, my thoughts increasingly more difficult to decipher and I feel sure that my grip on her breasts is bruising. But Elena certainly doesn’t seem to mind by the way she is moaning.

I have her voice in my ears, the taste of her on my tongue, her breasts in my hands, and it still isn’t enough.

I lift one hand, roughly grabbing her chin to jerk her head to the side and then press my mouth against hers to capture the sounds of her pleasure. Still rolling her nipple between my fingers, I grind my cock against her ass but now I swirl my tongue in her mouth.

And it’s fucking indelicate and messy, but I keep kissing her. Until I can’t breathe and my head is spinning and I have to tear my mouth away.

I stare down at her, panting as she looks up at me, her chest heaving. Lips swollen and red and her lashes wet. But her hands don’t move. Her back is arched against me, and my hand falls from her chin to curve gently around the front of her throat before moving them up to her mouth.

Pressing my two fingers against her bottom lip, my lips curve into a smirk. “Suck.”

Eyes flashing, Elena takes my fingers into her mouth as her tongue swirls around the digits, her cheeks hollowing out. She releases my fingers with apopand when they fall back against her nipple, her eyes close and she has to bite down on her lip to keep herself from moaning.

“Good girl,” I whisper into her ear. “Just like that.”

I trail my wet fingers over the curve of the top of her breast, down her sternum and towards her navel. And that’s when I realize she’s wearing a pair of my boxer briefs.

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