Page 125 of Gloves Off

I clench around his fingers, the tight spasm as pleasure rolls through me. Something about Alexei calling me that makes my brain melt.

“I doubt it.” My strained voice betrays me.

Another sharp slap on my ass, and the coil of need between my legs winds, tightening.

“You know what I think, Hellfire?”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip so I don’t cry out as he strokes his fingers in and out of me a little faster, a little rougher. God, that’s so good.

“I think you’re so in your head all the time, so in control, that it’s nice to let me take charge.”

With his free hand, he gathers my wrists and holds them against my lower back. I choke back a whimper as lust tightens between my legs.

I guess I like this.

“You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, trailing his lips over the back of my shoulder, and deep inside me, something shifts.

Everything heightens. The coil of need winds another notch, and sparks start going off at the center of my spine.

Oh god. He’s rubbing exactly the right spot. I can’t think. I can barely breathe. My arms flex, tugging against his hold, but he holds tight.

Shit.No. I think I’m going to—I can’t actually be—pleasure tightens through my body, spiraling, spinning, whirling, expanding. My mouth falls open.

I’m going to come.

Pleasure washes over me, and as I tip over the edge, I bury my face in the pillow. I’d rather suffocate than give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m coming, but it only makes it worse. I only comeharderon his fingers. His scent, the urgent feel of his fingers inside me, the way I know he’s looking at me, so focused and hungry andintense, like I’m the focus of his full attention, they all fold together and the sensations within me double, triple, quadruple. I’m shaking on his fingers, clamping my teeth together, making fists with my bound wrists, and staying silent with every shred of control I have left.

“Did you just come?”

“No,” I croak. I’m panting. My pulse races. Floaty, languid feelings drift through my bloodstream. Delicious serotonin has melted my brain.

“Liar.”

I can’t look at him. I don’t think my vision works anymore.

His hand returns between my legs and my eyes go wide.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, tensing up with sensitivity as his fingers slick over my clit. I’m soaked.

“You said you didn’t come.” His breathing sounds ragged but he gives my wrists a teasing squeeze. “So we’re not going to stop until you do.”

My lips part. This wasn’t part of the plan. I don’t know what to do now. He swirls the pads of his fingers across my oversensitive nerves and my eyes close. Every nerve ending in my body melts with his slow touch. I think I sigh with pleasure.

“Throwing in the towel so soon, Doctor?”

“Fuck you.” My voice is a thin rasp as another wave of heat ripples through me. My god. His fingers speed up. My muscles tighten again, pleasure cresting higher, insides going molten.

No. Nonono. Again? How?

I let out a desperate groan into the pillow, shuddering as the pressure between my legs peaks, firing through me, heating my blood and making my mind go blank. It’s the best form of torture, this. I don’t know how long this one goes on for—it could be seconds or hours, I’m not sure, but when I descend back to earth, I’m breathing hard, heart racing and limbs so heavy I couldn’t stand if I wanted to.

A pleased noise rumbles out of his chest. “Again, huh?’

“No,” I protest. I hate losing like this. I hate that he can make me come so easily. “You didn’t. I didn’t.”

“Mhm.” I refuse to look at him, but I can hear it in his voice—he loves this. He loves winning. “You’re beautiful. I’ve always thought that.”

“Shut up,” I gasp. He’s lying. “You hate me.”

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