Page 111 of The Onyx Covenant

I grab his wrist, keeping his hand in place. “Don’t you dare.”

The smile he gives me is pure predator. “As my lady commands.” In one swift motion, he spins me around to face the wall, his chest pressed hard against my back. “Though I don’t think ladies usually beg quite so prettily for corruption.”

His breath is hot against my ear, his body a solid wall of heat behind me. One arm wraps around my waist, pulling me tight against him, letting me feel exactly how much he wants this—wants me. The thickness in his pants presses hard against my rear.

“How many times do you think I’ve imagined this?” he whispers, his free hand sliding up my side to cup my breast through my shirt. “Having you exactly like this, at my mercy whenever I want?”

I push back against him, grinding deliberately, and am rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

“At your mercy?” I challenge, glancing back over my shoulder. “Are you sure about that? Because it seems to me you’re the one who’s desperate.”

His hand tightens in warning, then slips beneath my shirt, fingers tracing up my ribs to find bare skin.

“You have no idea what desperate feels like,” he promises, his voice dark with intent. “But you will.”

His mouth latches onto the side of my neck, sucking hard enough that I know it will leave a mark, while his fingers find my nipple through the thin fabric of my breast band. He rolls it between his fingers, alternating between gentle teasing and sharper pressure that draws gasps from my lips.

My head falls back against his shoulder, my body surrendering even as my mind maintains the challenge.

“Prove it,” I demand. “Show me exactly how desperate you can make me.”

A low chuckle vibrates against my skin. “Such a demanding little thing.” His hand slides lower, deftly undoing the laces of my pants. “Always giving orders, even when you’re the one pinned and helpless.”

“I’m never helpless,” I retort, though my voice shakes.

“No?” His teeth graze my earlobe. “Then stop me.”

Instead, I reach behind me, my hand finding the hard ridge of his cock through his pants. Gods, he’s so hard, so beautifully big.

“Why would I want to do that?” I ask innocently. “Especially when I can feel how much you need this, too?”

He hisses at my touch, hips jerking forward instinctively. “Need you,” he corrects, his voice rough with desire. “Only you.”

His admission sends a fresh wave of heat through me. I turn my head, seeking his mouth, needing to taste him again. He obliges, kissing me deeply while he’s already tugging on my pants and underwear. He finally pulls from my kiss and crouches down as he draws them along my legs. I step out of them, feeling so vulnerable, so sexy and hot for him.

Back on his feet, he grins sinfully and kisses me once more, keeping me still facing the wall.

I moan into his mouth as he explores, touches, and learns exactly what makes me tremble. His other hand yanks impatiently at my shirt, pushing it up to expose me completely.

“Say it,” he demands against my lips. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” I gasp as his hand slides over my hips, across my lower stomach, and falls between my thighs. I moan loudly as his fingers slip between my folds, where I’m burning up and soaking. “I’m yours, Theron.”

He growls his approval, his touch teasing my clit so rapidly I’m left breathless. Hands pressed to the wall, I tremble as I spread my legs for him when he pushes two fingers into me.

I cry out as he licks my neck, then sucks down on my earlobe. His hot breath washes across my skin, making me shake against him.

Releasing me, he spins me to face him. His eyes are almost entirely black now, with only the thinnest ring of silver remaining.

“And I’m yours,” he says, the words sounding as if they’ve been torn from him. “Body and soul. The last thought in my mind will be of you.”

There’s something devastating about the raw honesty in his voice. I reach for his pants, pulling at his belt and buttons, then tug them down, revealing that he’s wearing nothing underneath. His throbbing cock springs free, alert and pointing at me. Drawing his mouth down to mine again, I pour everything into the kiss. His hands grip my thighs, lifting me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he presses me back against the wall.

We don’t bother with removing our clothes entirely—too urgent, too desperate. He positions himself at my entrance, and I moan as the tip pushes into me, my pulse racing in my veins.

“Look at me,” he commands, waiting until my gaze locks with his before pushing forward in one powerful thrust.

I cry out at his thickness, the way he stretches me, my nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. The sensation is overwhelming—perfect, too much and not enough all at once. He gives me only seconds to adjust before he begins to move, setting a rhythm that has me gasping with each thrust.

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