Page 59 of Chain Me

No pretending that I wasn’t the cause of every inch.

And that knowledge confounded everything I knew about myself—everything I knew I wanted. His nearness made me yearn in ways I barely understood. For his taste. His rage. His need.

Everything.

I shivered as he batted the skirt aside, sliding a thumb beneath my panties. The gusset was no match as he yanked, ripping the thin material right down the middle. Slowly, his thumb burrowed between my folds in its place.

As he applied the slightest hint of pressure, the world ceased to spin.

“Thisis what you do to me.” He lingered and my entire body trembled, balanced on the pad of his finger. I sucked in a breath, my eyelids fluttering. If revenge was his aim, well he had won. I was unbearably cruel for making him feel even a fraction of this.

A single, lazy flick of his wrist fed tendrils of fire ripping through me like drops of gasoline. There was only one word for it, and groaning, he murmured it, “Insanity…”

Still vengeful, he stroked me again. Slower. Harder.

“Madness.” A grunt edged his words and a part of me knew why. With every caress of his thumb, my breathing quickened. My hips twitched, chasing the pressure and he felt…

Harder. Thicker. Firmer.

Because of me. My body was reacting to him in a way those romance novels he once taunted me for reading referenced. I looked down, observing the confident way he manipulated my body. He pulled his hand back slightly, taunting me with the evidence that I wanted him just as badly.

Needed him.

Craved.

As if aware of the thoughts, he encircled my throat in his entire fist, forcing me to meet his gaze. I swallowed hard, riveted by the sensation of his fingers. Still stroking. Thrusting.

Like I was an instrument at his mercy, one only he could ever tune.

My back arched at the intrusion, but he held me against him as if daring me to watch. How his pupils constricted when I moaned. How his tongue flicked along his lower lip as if to capture the sound. The way he groaned—truly groaned. As if in pain every time I rocked my hips, chasing the firmness just beyond reach.

Our eyes met again. Then foreheads. Mouths. Frantic, I inhaled him, letting his tongue battle mine even as insecurity threatened to shatter the numbing haze of lust.

This isn’t real.

It isn’t you he wants, Eleanor.

He doesn’t want you.

“I won’t let you play the innocent this time.” Baring his teeth, he positioned me above him, stopping short of lowering me onto him directly. He grasped my hand and lowered it to the tip of his cock. “Take what you want from me. Admit it.”

My fingers curled and I marveled at the feel of him. I flexed my fingers and he hissed. Curled them and he nearly came off the couch. I guided him against me and he bucked upward at the same time. He entered me in one slow, tenuous motion and it was sin. Him inside me was pure, hellish sin. The world slowed. The noise of the plane quieted and the rest of the universe ceased to matter.

Just this.

My hands fell over his shoulders, straining for leverage as he cradled my spine, guiding my movements. Slow. Harder. Deeper. So deep…

I stopped caring if the lust barreling into me was real. I only needed to feel it. My moans were broken. Loud. Shameless. In the back of my mind, I knew his pretty attendant could hear me. The whole damn plane could.

But they could also hearhim.

He grunted with every thrust, his hands scrambling for purchase over my waist, gripping me tighter. Tighter…

I gasped as he stood, lifting me in his arms. Pivoting on his heel, he spun me around and then pinned me down so that I was facing him. My back arched against the leather of the chaise as he rocked his hips, thrusting in from a newer angle. One too intimate. Too close.

He nipped my lips as if to steal away any doubt before it could form. In its absence, fire seared through my veins, building until…

Explosion. My body bore down, gripping him so tight that I saw stars. Nails drawn, I clung to him, my fingers laced through his hair as wave after wave of pleasure ripped me apart.