Page 76 of His Forced Bride

He works at the button, sliding the zipper down, and then his fingers slip inside the loosened fabric, finding me already wet through the thin barrier of silk.

“You’re soaked,” he growls, his hand pressing harder, rubbing me through the fabric until I can’t keep still.

“From patching my wounds, or from knowing you’re mine?”

I bite my lip hard, refusing him an answer, but my hips lift against his hand in a rhythm I can’t disguise.

His eyes burn into mine as he slides past the last barrier, skin against skin.

The first stroke of his fingers makes me cry out unrestrained.

He doesn’t smirk this time at all.

He watches with relentless focus and intrigue, as his thumb circles my clit and his fingers thrust deeper.

“Say it,” he orders, voice rough.

“I hate you,” I grunt, and my hips keep rocking, but I realize I don't hate him at all.

I let my head fall back and expose my neck to his teeth while he continues to fuck me.

“Good.” His hand quickens.

“Then hate me while you come for me."

The pressure builds quickly and my thighs tremble against his hips, my chest tight.

And when release crashes through me, it tears my voice raw, his name ripped from my throat no matter how hard I try to choke it back.

I collapse against him, panting, but he doesn’t let me rest.

His fingers slip free, slick with my release, and he drags them up to my mouth.

I taste myself when he presses them against my lips.

His eyes are dark and demanding, watching me with lust in them.

I suck them in defiance, glaring at him, and his groan rumbles through my chest. It seems to get him going.

He likes when I resist, which I can do with pleasure.

“Off,” he commands, tugging at my blouse.

Buttons scatter as he rips it open, exposing my bra.

I yank it off myself, shaken that I’m helping him, but desperate too.

He makes quick work of my slacks, shoving them down my legs until I kick free.

I’m bare now, straddling him in nothing but flushed skin and shame.

His belt clinks, his zipper hisses, and then he pulls himself free.

He's thick, hard, and already slick at the tip as he grips me at the hips, positioning me above himself.

“Ride me, Inessa," he growls hungrily before biting the inside of my right breast.

“You arrogant bastard?—”