Page 85 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
I hear the door to the hotel suite close and my heartrate sweeps up with nerves. When I open the bathroom door, he’s standing at the doorway to the bedroom, still wearing his coat.
For a minute we stare at each other. My bare feet tremble in the carpet. His jaw grinds slowly as his gazeassaultsmy entire body.
“On the bed.”
The way he snarls out the words makes me giddy with nerves. Have I just pushed him too far? I knew this lingerie set could ignite something, but blistering hotfurywas not one of those somethings.
I walk quickly to the bed and crawl across it to the middle, then I hug my arms around myself, suddenly afraid of what I’ve triggered.
I can’t look away as he whips off his coat and strides deliberately across the room as though he’s about to slit someone’s throat. He climbs on to the comforter next to me, shoves my hands away from my legs then wraps one arm around my middle, dragging me to the head of the bed. He does it with such ease I question whether it’s actually happening.
His back slams against the headboard and he whisks me over his thighs, seating me on his lap, facing him, then he reaches his hands up and palms my breasts with an insane look in his eyes.
His voice grits like waves over sand. “I don’t know what you are made of, but it’s fucking addictive.”
Then he tucks a thick finger over the edge of my bra and pulls it down until my breast pops out buoyantly. With a deep moan he leans forward and sucks the nipple into his hot mouth.
The relief is out of this world. I clutch at his hair and gasp his name, drawing another moan from his throat.He continues to palm my other breast while he consumes the one in his mouth, gorging on it like a starving, unhinged animal.
My pussy throbs, needing some kind of release. Without thinking, I push my own hand into my panties and rub myself, breathing out a long sigh.
He releases my breast with a slick pop and stares at the space between my thighs. I stop moving my hand, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“Don’t stop,” he rasps. “I want to watch.”
My heart flies up into my throat, but a need to see more of that look on his face overrides my embarrassment and I push my fingers back through my folds.
His cock grows fast beneath me, lifting me a little higher, tilting my pelvis and giving him a better view.
“Pick one,” he grunts.
Shit. I forgot about my scars.
“This one,” I breathe. I lightly tap one of the few remaining scars on my upper thigh, then return my fingers to my clit. My coordination is challenged but he doesn’t seem to care, and it feels so good I don’t care either.
“Make yourself come,” he drawls, his words slurring with lust. “I want to see you drip onto your fingers.”
Oh fuck. He may not speak many words, but when he does, they hit me hard.
“You’re so wet, baby. Rub it into your clit. I want to see.”
I do as he instructs. I’m addicted to that look on his face, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“Will this one count?” I ask breathlessly.
He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “Oh yeah.”
Thank God. I’m not sure how much longer I can wait until he gives me all of him. The thought fills me with nerves of the very best kind.
“You are so engorged. Look at you.”
I glance down and almost pass out at the sight. My hand is coated in my arousal, my opening red and swollen.
“Keep looking at yourself,” he orders. “Press your fingertips to your clit, like this.”
He maneuvers my fingers and makes them stroke tight circles over the nub.
“Watch yourself, baby. Watch yourself come.”
