Page 7 of Free

“Okay,” I promise again.

That seems to be good enough for Justin because he releases my head and tips up my face, dragging his tongue along my jawline. He begins to rock his hips, and his erection presses into my thigh.

I’ve missed this so much. My thoughts scatter underneath Justin’s touch. Rational thinking flees to be replaced with insatiable need. The need to touch and be touched. Held and be held. Filled and…nope.

I just want to be fucked.

“Wait…” I pant.

He doesn’t.

I don’t blame him. It wasn’t very convincing. He nips my earlobe with his teeth and slides his hand into my underwear to pull my dick free. My eyes roll up in the back of my head when he fists my cock from root to tip, squeezing at the top. “We shouldn’t do this,” I plead. “We should wait for Julia. What if she doesn’t want me here. What if—?”

“Shut up.”

I grunt when his lips slam into mine. My hips jerk into his touch of their own accord. There it is… that feeling. Lightheaded, delirious with lust. Every thought in my head is chased away by the desire to do what he wants and surrender to the pleasure he offers. My fingers are tingling. My toes…

Thisis what I’ve been missing.

Julia was right all those months ago. It’s addictive, and I’ve been in withdrawal.

His kiss is a battle for dominance, but I think we both know it’s a battle I don’t want to win. When he pulls away, he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, biting the flesh until I moan at the pain.

It’s not a sound of displeasure.

“First off,” he begins, moving his mouth down the other side of my throat. He’s not being gentle. I dig my hands into his hair and hold on for the ride. “Julia wants you home. She bought you Christmas presents for fucks sake, Rem. She’ll birth kittens when she gets back and sees you here. Second off,” he bites the soft spot where throat meets shoulder and I whimper as the sting morphs into almost unbearable pleasure.

He looks me straight in the eye.

“The way I see it,” he basically growls, “you two owe me one.”

Huh?

Realization explodes in the back of my brain.

Oh.

That.

The Holiday Ball.

My shoulders slump in shame. He tightens his hand on my dick in response.

Oh, sweet Jesus. Yessssssss.

“Oh no,” he grins. “None of that now. Pouty Remi is not allowed in my bed today.”

Justin smacks my ass, and I hiss at the addictive mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Does that hurt?” he asks, eyebrow lifted. Concern hovers under the mask of domination he wears.

“Yes,” I confirm when he smacks me again.

“Want me to stop?”

He’s grinning now. Happy and content.

“Gods, no,” I grunt. “Green. I’m all green. I’ll safe word if you get too far.”