Page 122 of Hurt

Those hands—hands that Willow would like to have branded on her skin—slid down her body and daringly wrapped themselves around her ass.

…oh.

Oh.

That was new. The feeling of those strong digits digging into the soft skin of her ass sent an explosion of arousal up into her, and she was so achingly aroused. Had she ever been this fired up before? Roland had to be able to feel her heat pressing up against him.

Willow’s lips had a mind of their own. They traveled from Roland’s stupidly perfect lips to his senselessly perfect jaw and then to his ridiculously perfect neck. She could feel Roland shivering under her lips. She shifted her hips to get closer, and then it was there.

Roland was hard against her.

He wanted her too. Willow’s last shred of logic snapped.

“Roland…Roland…” she whined breathlessly, lips pressed against the soft hollow of his throat. Her mind was blank. She had never been speechless, but Roland had kissed the words from her.

“Mn,” Roland grunted above her with his eyes closed.

Their chests were plastered together, and Willow realized her hips were rocking against Roland. A desperate move to release the tension building in her waist. Every time she pressed against Roland, she whimpered a little, an embarrassing noise eliciting from her lips.

“Roland,” Willow kissed his lips again, “can you look at me forever? Just never stop looking because when you look at me, everything feels right, and I just…” She was mumbling incoherently, lips moving against Roland’s and tears forming in her eyes. She didn’t know why she was crying. There was just so much in her heart it was leaking out the edges.

Roland’s hands slid around her and held her close.

“I’ll never look away,” he murmured in her ear, his deep voice sending little shocks ofsomethingthat felt a lot like a combination of lust and something that seemed like a lot more. Something she had never felt before.

Willow gasped and pressed her wet cheeks against Roland. She needed him. She needed all of Roland. She needed him so much she thought she would burst.

“Please,” Willow begged. “Make me yours.”

Roland growled, and suddenly, plates and cups were smashing to the floor, and Willow was pressed into the table. Roland was between her legs, and her thighs wrapped around him, locking him close.

The tenderness from before was gone. Their emotional needs took a backseat to their ever-present physical needs.

Willow ripped at Roland’s shirt. Buttons flew across the room, and finally, she got his hands on the chest she had been looking at for so long. It was smooth and hard under her fingers. The skin under her touch shuddered, and Willow realized that Roland was ticklish over his ribs, and it gave her so many terrible ideas.

Roland’s rings were warm from body heat. They dragged against the skin of her abdomen as those large hands explored the expanse of skin he had seen under the stage lights so many times. Callouses and scars snagged and scratched as they slipped over Willow’s body, taunting her with pleasure and just a hint of pain that made her back arch and lips part.

Noises of want spilled from her mouth. She didn’t care. Every syllable seemed to egg Roland on, like the last noise of pleasure was competition for the next. Every touch, every caress, could be better than the last.

Roland’s belt buckle dug into her stomach, and Willow’s fingers pulled at it. It was leather and expensive, but there was a satisfying thud as it landed in a heap somewhere.

Those rings dragged over Willow’s slim thighs. They pressed themselves against her ass and skated across her ribs and collarbones. All at once, they were everywhere, leaving a trail of pleasure in their wake. Tools that inflicted pain on so many others only brought Willow to the edge of ecstasy.

Somewhere in the mix, her pants had disappeared.

Roland’s hand slid under her shirt, digits nudging up against her bra and under the material. His rough skin teased her sensitive nipples, already hard from want. It sent shocks down her spine, and her muscles tightened.

Her entire body was taut with want and need, and even just the barest of touches would have sent her over.

But then they were gone, disappearing into the void, and she ached. She ached for Roland’s touch.

Whining and wriggling, her body searched for that relief. That warmth and strength that had imprinted itself on her. They reappeared around her thighs, dragging her to the edge of the table and sliding her legs over broad shoulders.

Eyes snapping open, Willow realized what Roland was doing.

His breath was warm against her aching sex, andthose handswere holding her legs down on his shoulders while he knelt over Willow’s hips. Instinctively her legs tightened around Roland’s ears, and she sat up.

“Roland, no, don’t…”