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“If I want your mouth around my cock, you will do it.”
“No, I won’t.”
His hand drops and slides between my legs. I try to move, but he holds me still. We both know I want him to touch me. With little effort he loops his finger around my panties and tugs them a few times before they drop to the floor.
I gasp and then do it a second time as his fingers slide inside me.
“Soaking wet for me.” His head tilts, and his silver eyes filled with arousal roam my face.
“This isn’t right,” I say pathetically. Not even I’m buying my halfhearted resistance.
“Tell me, little prisoner, have you thought about my cock all day today?”
Yes.
Damn you.
“Have you worked out that I can please you far more than my monster of a father ever could?” He curls his fingers, and I grip his arm.
Holy hell.
“Did you touch your naughty pussy today?”
No, because I was mad at him for walking out. For taking me in the first place. For making me want him as much as I do. Craving more of his touch.
His thumb presses on my clit and I hear myself begging.
“Climb on my lap.”
“No. I’m not fucking you here.” I panic.
“Okay.” His fingers slide out of my pussy, leaving me empty and needy.
“Maddox.” I grip his shirt.
“Make up your mind, little prisoner.” He lifts a dark brow and glances away. When I see him watching the girls dancing, a strange and unwelcome feeling ripples through me.
One I’ve never felt before.
Envy.
I’ve dated few men. Always knowing I was going to be partnered with a man my family chose. Still, I could have fallen for one of them, I suppose, but I never did. I liked a few of them. But I never felt jealous.
I never cared if they spoke to other girls or never called.
Right now, I feel a powerful urge to hurt the woman writhing away to the music. To pull her hair out and tell her she can’t have him.
She glances his way and flicks her hair.
Fuck her.
I climb on Maddox’s lap, blocking his view, and slam my mouth down on his. His hands grip my hips as he takes our kiss deeper, and it occurs to me that this is our first kiss.
Yes, we kissed while fucking the other night, but this feels different. Our tongues wind around one other’s hungrily as the same connection I felt last night rises once more.
He likes that I want him like this.
He likes my jealousy.