Page 109 of Unforgiving Queen
I’d have liked to blame the alcohol, but deep down, I knew it was all me. My lips parted when Amon’s fingers found their way under my dress. I couldn’t let him find the evidence of my arousal, so I pressed my thighs tightly together.
My heart drummed so hard it threatened to leap out of my chest. His fingers brushed over my thighs, sending shivers through me. He was almost there, where I needed him the most. I craved it and feared it.
Don’t let him, my brain warned.
Take it all, my body demanded. It’d been a long time coming.
He hovered over me, almost touching but not quite. It stimulated every inch of my skin, making me crave a reprieve with desperation. The moment his fingers brushed against my soaked panties, my back arched off the bed.
“Some things never change,” he purred.
His consuming gaze studied the length of me in a slow, lazy way that told me he would take his sweet time with me. The notion had me hyperventilating.
He wrenched my dress, shredding it with staggering ease. As if it were made of paper.
There was nothing sweet about this Amon. He was more intense, darker somehow. His face looked harsher, his jaw more angular. There was a certain danger to him now.
“Did Dante touch you?”
A part of me wanted to submit to him, cave in. But the stubborn part of me pressed my lips together, refusing to answer.
“None of your business. Amon, I swear—”
My words got stuck in the back of my throat when he unclasped my bra, sending my breasts bouncing free. If I’d known where I’d end up, I would have definitely opted for the more complicated bra with the clasp in the back instead of the push-up one with easy access.
The fact that I was bound and unable to do anything added a perverse notch to my throbbing core.
“By all means, deny me the answer,” he drawled darkly. “And we’ll do this all night. I’ll make it worthwhile, I promise.”
His big hand traced my body, lazily brushing over my stomach until he reached my pussy.
“I hate you,” I breathed, fighting my body’s response.
His mouth hovered over mine. “You can lie to yourself, but not to me.”
He brushed against me with the tip of his nose, bringing his mouth so close I could taste it. I closed my eyes, my fingernails digging into my palms instead of doing what they desired and reaching up to tangle in his black hair.
His kiss was soft, yearning. His body covered mine like a weighted blanket.
“I hate you,” I breathed against his mouth once more. “I hate you so fucking much.”
He kissed me harder, a harsh growl vibrating in his chest and turning me into hot liquid.
I grasped for my reason, desperate to hold on to my sanity. My hate.
In another instant, he was ripping my panties, the sharp sting against my flesh making me flinch.
“Tell me again,” he growled, his mouth moving against mine.
I shook my head, unable to remember what he was asking. “What?”
“Tell me you hate me,” he whispered.
“I hate you.” He kissed me harder—deeper—nearly sucking out my soul. I returned the kiss, emotions high and running circles through me. His lips invaded mine, dominating me, and the worst part was that I let him.
Because I’d missed him with an ache that never eased. I lay completely naked under him while he was fully clothed, doing what he pleased, drawing on the parts of my pleasure like a map. My hips arched, grinding against his, craving friction.
Then, through the carnal fog, it occurred to me I wasn’t fighting at all. If anything, I was playing right into his hands. My legs were parted and I ground against him.
