Page 64 of The Arrogant's Surrender

I touch the hardened clit, the knot vibrating against my thumb, and her moans increase, culminating in her begging to be satisfied.

She feels no shame now because all she desires is for me to give her the pleasure I promised. The pleasure we’ve both been craving.

Each time my fingers invade her body, she whimpers, promising to give me everything if I just don’t stop. Her lack of control drives me insane. Witnessing her transition from a wholesome woman to a wild cat makes every nerve in my body vibrate.

I carry her in my arms to the dining table, made of solid wood, and set her down on it. I don’t let her close her thighs, planting her feet on the tabletop.

With a swift movement, I turn the small piece of silk that concealed her sex into a rag. The sound of the fabric tearing acts as a warning that my self-control has gone to hell.

I make her lie on the table and step back to admire the sight.

Brooklyn is stunning in her shameless surrender. Her dress is hiked up to her waist. Her feet are still clad in thin-strapped heels, her mouth parted in pleasure.

“Lower your dress straps for me,” I command. “Show me what’s mine.”

She hesitates, and even that is sexy as hell—the fact that she makes me wait, delaying what we both know she wants.

When she finally obeys, I grab both her thighs and place them over my shoulders, diving my face into the pussy I’m desperate to devour.

One of my hands rises, kneading the soft flesh of her breast, pinching the nipple, while my tongue gives her no rest, licking her wet folds, sucking her clit, diving deep into her tight walls.

The orgasm explodes in her without warning, and she comes so sweetly that her pleasure drips down my chin.

I don’t stop, because I’m ravenous. I keep sucking until I feel her legs go limp.

Athanasios

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

I don’t stop kissingher the entire way to my bedroom.

I can’t recall ever feeling anxious before fucking a woman, but I don’t think I have. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I desire Brooklyn.

I set her on her feet, leaning her against the wall, and step back, studying her the way I would anything that captivates me.

The dress was discarded along the way, and all that remains are her high-heeled sandals.

She’s blushing, the bun she wore when we met has come undone, and to my surprise, she doesn’t try to cover herself.

Naked and stunning.

Mine.

What is it about you that keeps me so captivated?I ask silently.

She doesn’t have the sophistication of the women I’ve been with all my life, yet I want her with a disturbing, violent intensity that unravels everything I’ve experienced in my relationships so far.

All I know is that I need to mark her as mine, bite and suck every inch of her skin, hear her scream my name like she did just moments ago while I plunge into her soft, warm body again and again.

I remove my blazer and my already unbuttoned shirt, never taking my eyes off her.

She takes deep breaths, her generous breasts rising and falling, tempting me.

Her slim waist is an invitation to filthy thoughts. All I can imagine is gripping her, squeezing her delicate skin, and forcing her to slide down hard on my cock.

I repeat what I said to her on the boat. “You’re perfect.”

She runs her tongue along her bottom lip, and I know instinctively it’s not an attempt to seduce me.

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