Page 50 of Sweet Deception
His kiss opens floodgates of fire in my core.
Why does his mouth have this much power over me?
My fingers curl to fists around the fabric of his shirt. Soon, my greedy hands push the fabric up until Darren releases my body long enough to rip the shirt over his head. When my hands fall to his bare skin, electricity zaps me from head to toe. It’s potent enough that I’m surprised my clothes aren’t singed.
“I…hate you.” My words are hazy.
His heavy hands land on my ass, sliding beneath the hem of the sweatpants and pawing at me over my underwear.
“From you, I’ll take that as a compliment.” His voice is low and husky just before he bites into my neck.
My eyelids flutter shut. That feels amazing.
No, no, no, no. This is exactly how he got me the last time, except…
Darren’s completely different tonight.
His kiss is searching and raw. Nonspecific. Chaotic.
The first time he kissed me, his intentions were clear.
I was a faceless whore. He wanted to dismantle me, and he did it. But this time, he’s aimless, guiding us both as we wander into this sensual wonderland as if for the first time all over again.
I wait for the dirty talk, but he uses his mouth in other ways, sucking my lips between his, biting them while his fingertips fondle my ass. Any second now, I expect him to spin me around to face the wall, where he’ll rail me the same way he did on that balcony, but the moment never comes.
Instead, he draws the t-shirt over my head and kneads my breasts together. His mouth is hot and open against me, his grip on my chest firm but adulating. Reverent, almost…
Gone is the rough, dispassionate dominant male routine that broke me down to a whimpering, spasming mess. The man who cradles my fate in the palms of his dangerous hands now seems worlds away from the one I manipulated that night.
When Darren’s done worshipping my breasts, he skates his hands over my hips until he reaches my thighs. Then, in one fluid motion, he hoists both my legs around his waist.
“Hold on to me.” His low voice is rough and full with need.
Once again, my body obeys without my permission, my arms fastening around the column of his neck as my ankles lock around his waist.
Darren spreads his arms wide across the wall, pinning me with all his weight. Our mouths stitch together in an unceasingkiss that’s got me so dizzy, the oxygen loss might damage my already frazzled brain.
As he leans against me, his need becomes evident. His steely erection presses into the seam of my cotton sweats. My hips tilt and rock against him involuntarily, and we both moan in unison.
Darren growls and grinds his cock against me, generating bursts of pleasure even through the fabric. I keep gasping against his open mouth.
The friction we’re creating, just from the sensation of our bare torsos plastered together, is enough to steam up these barred windows. I’m sure of it.
I don’t know how long we stay against the wall, mouths devouring each other while we grind our bodies together. After I’ve been moaning for what seems like an hour, he spins us away from the wall and closes the distance to the bed in three quick strides.
He deposits me on the mattress and strips off my sweatpants and panties in one controlled action. He removes his pants and underwear as I sprawl out on my back and stare up at him. When he stands nude at the edge of the bed, I find his dick hard and ready.
My heart stutters into a dead sprint as Darren inspects me in the dark. The loss of body contact for the first time in minutes fills me with a sense of loss and floods my blood with tingly, desperate need.
Badly. Terribly. Desperately. That’s how much I want him.
On top of me. All over me. Inside me.
The impulses and desires battle inside me while I lie paralyzed under his lustful, evaluative gaze.
Darren considers me for such a long moment—probably having some important conversation with his sanity, the way Ishould be—that cold fear starts to crop up in my chest. What if he leaves me here like this—hot, bothered, and unsatisfied?
I don’t even want to imagine it. Just the idea of that kind of disappointment is crushing.
