Page 51 of Searching for Hope

But I’m beginning to realize I love getting burned.

Michael was right.

I thrive on fear.

Jericho adjusts his grip, his fingers cutting in below my jaw. My hands rise to his wrist as he walks me backward until my ass hits the wall.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” His eyes narrow. They search my gaze intently. His hips are thrust against me, holding me in place. His cock presses firmly into my stomach.

I push against him, grinning wickedly. “I know exactly what I’m doing. What about you?”

He lets out this growl that has everything inside me shuddering. His fingers grip my jaw again, pulling my mouth hungrily toward his.

His kiss hurts.

He tugs at my lips with his teeth then softens the blow with tenderness. He jerks my head upwards and to the side, holding me in place as he runs his tongue over my exposed neck. He bites and teases as I’m locked under his grip. Then his hands are on my breasts greedily and brazenly. He crushes my flesh under his fingers, causing me to whimper in glorious agony. His head whips up and he lets me go, scanning my expression, testing my resolve.

I sink to my knees. His hand falls to my head and I nuzzle into him as he strokes my hair. He caresses me before sliding his hand down and under my chin, tipping my face up. He does nothing but stare until I’m trembling in suspense.

He rubs his thumb roughly over my bottom lip, clenching his own between his teeth before taking a step back. He tugs at the hem of his t-shirt and lifts it over his head. I hungrily feed on the sight of him. I want to run my fingers through the dark hair that dots his chest and follow the trail that slips beneath his pants. He keeps his gaze locked on me as he undoes the buttons and pushes his jeans over his hips. My gaze drops without permission. He holds himself and strokes a few times as I watch.

I swallow.

I can’t help it.

And as he turns and walks away, I watch the way his muscles slide and move. He strides over to the chair in the corner of the room with casual abandon, knowing my eyes are feasting on him. Sitting down, he holds his cock in his hand as he waits for me.

He doesn’t command me.

He doesn’t say a word.

I crawl to him on all fours like some lovesick animal. I’m wet by the time I get there, my thighs having rubbed my arousal with each step.

“Come,” he says, urging me between his legs.

My body trembles at his command. I scooch forward, my gaze flicking between his eyes and the hard cock in his hands. He cups my face, dipping his thumb into my mouth before sliding his hands to the back of my head and guiding me gently.

“Open.”

He slows his guidance as soon as I get the first taste of him. Tipping his head back, he lets out a low exhale of air. Then he gathers my hair, pulling it into a ponytail, secured by his fingers on the top of my head. He guides my head up and down, pushing more of himself into me with each thrust. And I’m greedy and hungry for him. I press my thighs together as I devour the taste of him.

“Fuck,” he growls when he hits the back of my throat.

I gag, my body convulsing as he tightens his grip on my hair. But I eagerly lower my mouth onto him again, barely containing the need to rub myself. I’m pulsing with need. So much so it hurts. I suck hungrily and he hisses at my aggression, tugging me off him.

He stands and I stay kneeling at his feet. My eyes travel over the landscape of him until I meet his gaze. It’s darker than dark. Blacker than black. Walking behind me, he pushes between my shoulder blades until I’m on all fours. Then he lowers himself to his knees and grips my hips. His hand plants between my shoulders again, pushing my chest to the floor.

A sharp slap smacks over my ass. “You should know better than to taunt me like this, Berkley.”

I gasp but shove myself toward him, wanting more of the numbing sting. He slaps me again. It’s the same force as the first one, enough to make me gasp but not enough for me to pull away. He grabs my ass cheek, rubbing me gently before slapping me again. He keeps up this repetitive rhythm. Slap. Rub. Repeat.

I squirm under his attention but after each slap, I push myself closer, encouraging his punishment. He groans and thrusts toward me. His cock is there. Right there. I wriggle, trying to force him inside, but he pulls away and slaps me instead.

“Don’t be impatient,” he warns.

But I am. I’m desperate for him. I’m dying to feel him inside me. It’s like there’s an ache of need and he’s the only one who can sate it. He rubs my ass again.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he whispers reverently as he grabs a condom and covers himself.

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