Page 46 of Secret Baby for Mr. Grump

“You should stop,” he said.

“I won’t,” I responded.

“You don’t know what you’re starting, little girl.”

I’ll show him who’s a little girl.

I stayed exactly where I was and then brought my other hand up, squeezing it around my throat harder.

With a snarl, he snapped.

But he didn’t do the predictable thing of falling on me like a sex-starved maniac. No, he was way too in control for that.

Instead, he used the hand he wrapped around my neck to bring me forward until my lips were a breath from his. But instead of kissing me the way I craved, he skimmed his nose against the side of my face until he got to my neck, inhaling deeply and nipping it slightly before going lower.

I trembled at the hint of danger, at the feeling of his breath as he whispered down my neck. One hand slipped up my uniform shirt, and I hissed as I felt his heated palm against my cool skin.

“God, your skin is so soft,” he whispered as his hands rubbed over my stomach a few times. I knew the exact moment they found my cesarean scar, and I twisted a little, attempting to remove his hand from the mark that made me insecure.

But he didn’t, insistently tracing his fingers over the line lifted against my skin.

“Beautiful,” he declared, and something in me cracked.

By the time his hands reached the edge of my bra, I nearly wept from how turned on I was. His fingers slipped around the back, and he expertly undid my bra with one hand before coming back around to strum my nipple.

I jumped at the contact.

“Easy,” he murmured as he continued to shift his thumb over the puckered numb, plucking and playing until I bit back a moan.

I noticed that I began moving slightly against his thigh, but he ignored it.

Instead, he caught my eye, leaning his face forward until his mouth hovered over my chest. My breath caught. I’ve always had incredibly sensitive nipples. It had gotten even worse after I gave birth, and Marcus’ touch was already taking me to the edge very quickly.

And then he turned it up a notch.

He rubbed his nose over my cotton shirt, right over where my puckered nipple, which he’d pinched between two fingers, would be. The slight touch, almost like a breeze, had me gasping and shaking a little, the almost-there feeling somehow worse than if he had touched it outright.

And then he flashed his teeth, nipping.

I jumped in his lap, arousal arcing through me as violently.

Suddenly, he reversed our positions, so I was the one lying on the couch with him above me.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

I swallowed, then nodded. It would take a lot, but I would try my best.

“Hurry,” I gasped as his hands started to trail up my side, lifting my shirt as they went.

“Hmm,” he purred but with a smile that said, “I’ve waited for this for a long time. I’m now going to take my time.”

And that was exactly what he did. He started by sensuously suckling my nipples, alternating between one and the other with his hand playing with whichever nipple he wasn’t sucking. It was then that I knew I would lose my mind.

My hand flew to his head, needing to hold something. He nipped my nipple in punishment, and I gasped.

“I said don’t move,” he growled, his eyes glinting with that same dangerous gleam. He took my hands out of his hair and brought them to the couch. “Here. Hold this. Move your hands again, and you’re going to regret it.”

Oh, God. I was probably soaked through my panties, and my clit was painfully rubbing against them, but I would do it.

---