Page 103 of Wild Side
“Tabby. Tabby.Fuck.” His hands slip to my waist and grip me in place.
My gaze trails over his face. Lips parted, dark lashes dropped low.
He’s fuckingbeautiful. And infuriating. And mine.
My core pulses around his hardness, and I smirk as I bend over his body, fingers trailing over his. I press a kiss to his sternum, his heady scent swirling around me.
“Was that a challenge?” I murmur against his golden skin as I slowly drag my hips up and glide them back down again. Pleasure radiates through every limb, a delicious ache unfurling behind each joint. I’m smiling when I move again, licking my way up his neck.
“Because I love a challenge.” My teeth snap at his ear, hips riding him as his fingers grip me harder. Hard enough to leave marks. God, I hope he leaves marks.
Suddenly, I’m feral for him.
I slam down on him harder and hiss at the slight sting.
“Jesus,” he grits out as he sits up, one hand pushing us into a new position where I’m still straddling him, but upright. Somehow, even more intimate, because now I’m not on top and in control. We’re face-to-face with nothing between us.
His hot, minty breath fans against my lips, and when I move again, he grips me in place. “Baby, hold up. I need a second.”
I clench at the term of endearment, hands draped over his shoulders as I watch him. Adam’s apple bobbing, tongue darting out over that full bottom lip.
No wonder it was so hard to hate him. Especially now, looking so undone, so vulnerable—all for me. It’s like my body knew all along and was just waiting for my mind to catch up.
My fingers rake over the back of his neck, and I search his eyes. Irises so dark, yet sparkling so brightly.
He shakes his head softly, disbelief flashing over his features, and then he drops his mouth to mine. His palm is flat and firm, moving up the column of my spine before his fingers tangle in my hair.
And then he’s kissing me. Holding me. Pumping into me. That sting from earlier transforms into the most delicious ache as we join.
We take our time, all those protective walls we put up crumbling down between us as my hips roll and his hands roam. My chest aches from the tenderness of it, the reverent exploration freeing in so many ways.
His stubble against my neck tips my head back as I give him space to keep going. “Goddamn, you feel so good. So tight. So wet.”
My hips drop harder as I ride him.
“So fucking eager.”
The frenzy inside me builds. His praise feels too good to keep going slow. It makes me hungrier. “More, Rhys. Give me more.”
He chuckles, low and sensual, in my ear. “So fucking demanding too. Downright desperate?—”
“I’m not?—”
He cuts me off when he turns us so that he’s seated on the edge of the bed. Then he flips me like I’m a doll, manhandling me into position so that I’m still straddling him but facing away.
Facing the mirror that I so lovingly propped against the wall for him.
And I can’t look away. The dim light from the stairs lights the space enough to give me a clear view of what he’s doing to me. With both hands on my waist, he lifts me, lines us up, and slowly impales me on his cock.
He watches from over my shoulder, both of us panting and unable to look away as he fills me. The way his hands look on my body, the way his tattoos look even darker in the shadows—it all makes me wetter. My chest blazes with heat, and my nipples tingle so intensely that I reach for them, twisting gently between my thumb and fingers.
“See? Look at you. You gonna tell me you’re not desperate for it?”
“Maybe you’re the one who’s desperate for it.”
Our eyes meet in the mirror. Dark on dark.
He lifts me and drops me down again. I whimper, refusing to admit it out loud to him. That one last shred of power is just too fucking hard to relinquish.
