Page 54 of Seven Nights

Through the fabric, he massages my pussy with a rough touch. The pad of his thumb rubs a hard line up and down the seam of my pants, bullying my lower body into submission. My hips press forward, my mound wantonly thrusting and retreating.

My palms land flat against his chest and curl into fists. Gripping his sweater, I pull Griffin closer. His fingers knot more tightly in my hair. The kiss turns to a soft biting of lips and chin and neck as he urges me on.

“So beautiful.” He holds his hand rigid against my mound as I ride it. “Let me back in, Kate.”

Fueled by his firm touch and a month of frustrated fantasies, my first climax steamrolls through me. My hips buck twice and then I freeze.

Finding me trembling against him in obvious release, Griffin works the line of my clit with his entire hand, his lips whispering against my ear. “Don't forget how you feel right now, baby. How I brought you to this point.”

Forget? Impossible. I spent the month remembering moments like these, trying unsuccessfully to replicate the hot bolt of climax he can draw from my body with so little effort.

He doesn’t give me time to answer—not even a second to think. He unfastens my belt, undoes the button and zipper. I know I should try to stop him. I don’t want another replay of our last agreement. But, from my belly button up, nothing is working. I tell my hands to push him away, but my fingers ache to knot in his thick hair and pull his mouth to mine for another throbbing kiss.

Griffin jerks my slacks and underwear down to my ankles then unzips his own pants. I am out of time. I have to decide.

Fuck or fight?

“Fuck-oh-fuck,” I moan as he enters me so big and hot and hard that a shockwave barrels through my pussy and all the way up my spine.

Thrusting to its base, his cock stretches my snug cunt. My nipples, already small points of need, draw tighter, their movement inside my shirt painful from the increased sensitivity my arousal creates.

“Kiss me.” His gaze hooks mine, the blue fire of his irises compelling me to obey.

I wrap my hands around his skull. Tilting my head back, I draw him down for a kiss. More moans leave me to echo inside his mouth. He holds me to him, twin explosions of need running through me when my nipples meet the unyielding barrier of his chest.

We move against one another like manic rabbits. His strong arms lift me, then drive me down onto his shaft as his hips push upward. My body works with him, my cunt climbing up his cock then drinking it back in as the flexing, rolling muscles grab and pull.

He devours my mouth through it all. His hands travel in rough determination over my breasts, against my ass, around my throat, to pull, pinch and squeeze until another climax thunders through me.

I freeze against him, tension rattling my body as every muscle strains to hold his throbbing cock captive. I feel the hard jerks of his shaft inside me as he comes. Groaning, he presses my head tightly to his chest, his arms crossing over my back and squeezing me to him.

Through flesh and bone and the fabric of his sweater, I feel the synchronous beating of our hearts and hear the simultaneous gasping intake of air as we both pant from the fury of our lovemaking.

Slowly, my muscles relax. Gently tugging my head back, Griffin kisses my throat. His hands drop to my hips, kneading my bottom as he takes slow, sweet thrusts inside me. Incoherent murmurs laden with sated pleasure ripple across his lips. He strokes repeatedly at my back and arms as if he needs reassurance that I am real.

Reveling in his touch, I feel fresh tears coat my eyes. My mouth lifts at the corners and my heart knocks exuberantly against the back of my ribcage. A rough start, I admit, but the absolute perfection of all that followed still pulses through my body.

And then it doesn’t. The sensation disconnects like a cord viciously yanked from its wall plug as Griffin pulls away and his gaze dips down to the tight, wet hole he is exiting.

Feeling him freeze, I look down, too.

No condom.

Glancing up, I find a look of horror cementing his face.

Right, of course he is mortified. Montgomery wants to fuck me, not have me bear his child. He undoubtedly intends to have an heir someday, but clearly that will be another woman’s labor.

I brace myself and swipe at a tear before it has a chance to expose my emotions with the stain it leaves on my cheek.

How could I be so stupid to think for even one second that he wants me for something other than my body? When it comes to commitment, he will choose an equal, not some submissive—spineless—freak who caves to every last thing he requests, who lives for his touch, who clings to him.

“Don’t worry about conception,” I say, sliding off the table and jerking my clothes up. “It isn't an issue and I wouldn't burden you with it anyway.”

I move to step past him. He grabs me again, nothing gentle to his grip. His fingers press hard against the flesh of my upper arms to keep me from twisting free.

“You misunderstand.” He swallows, his head moving with mine so I can’t avoid his gaze. “Whatever you think I was feeling, it was only surprise. That has never—”

“Yeah, it was a cold, wet slap in the face for me, too.” I roll my eyes at him then force a smile. “Like I said, don't worry yourself over it. I won't be showing up with a lawyer and a paternity suit.”

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