Page 75 of In Case You Didn't Know

His chest is pure sin. Broad, sculpted. I follow every ridge of his muscles, my lips aching to trace the valleys beneath them. My gaze slides down, taking in the defined cut of his abs, the sharp vee of his hips. His biceps flex as he tosses the shirt to the floor like it’s offended him.

He watches me watch him. It’s his turn for a dirty half-smirk. He runs his tongue along his lips then reaches for the button of his pants.

Slowly. Like he knows how tortuous this is. This is payback, I realize. He’s letting me look like he’s looked at me all week. Letting me ache like he’s ached. And God, I really do.

He drags the zipper down, his cock straining beneath the fabric. It’s thick as it pushes against his black shorts. My mouth feels dry as I stare at him. As he pushes his pants down and steps out of them, before following suit with his shorts.

He’s fully naked. And so fully aroused it makes my thighs clench.

I want to reach for him, but I know better.

Wrapping his hand around his cock, he fists it, slowly, firmly. And I swear I almost come from that sight alone.

“Now it’s your turn to watch,” he rasps. “Don’t move. Don’t speak. Just lay there and see what you do to me.”

I can’t tear my eyes away from him. He’s like a marble statue, all perfect lines and impossible strength.

His hand moves again. Faster this time. Rougher. He’s not teasing himself the way he teased me. This is furious, raw. Like every moment he held back from me is erupting from him.

“Look at you,” he growls, his eyes locked on mine. “Lying there all wrecked and needy. You have no idea what it does to me.”

I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. I curl my fingers into the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping me grounded.

“I’ve been dreaming about this. About you. About tasting that sweet pussy.”

He drags his hand harder along his cock. His muscles are taut, strained. Like he’s holding back a detonation.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget your own name,” he rasps. “Until all you can say is mine. But not now. Not yet. It’s your turn to watch.”

I inhale raggedly. This man is coming undone in front of me. And I’ve never seen anything hotter in my life.

“You think you’re in control? You think you’ve got me undone? Baby, I’ve been hanging by a thread since the first night you whispered my name.”

I press my thighs together. Whimpering. I’m only seconds away from begging.

He sees it. Smirks. “You want to touch yourself so badly, don’t you? You want to come while you watch me lose it.”

I nod, because that’s all I can do.

His smile widens. “Too fucking bad.”

Then he groans out my name. It’s loud and rough, like it’s coming from the depths of him. And I know he’s so close to coming.

“I’m going to cover you with me,” he groans. “I’m going to mark you. So every time you touch yourself you’ll remember this. Remember that you’re mine.”

I nod, though I’m already his. He has to know that. His thumb trails across the head of his cock, then he steps closer to me as he comes.

With a low, broken growl of my name, his body jerks. Spilling over my skin. His hips flex once, twice. The cords of his neck taut as he throws his head back and rides the wave. He looks feral. Untamed.

Mine.

I lie there, my breath caught in my throat, watching the way his chest heaves, his hand still loosely wrapped around his cock, glistening from release.

And when he looks at me, there’s no smugness. No victory. Just hunger. I reach down, wanting to touch his release on my skin. To feel the mark he’s made on me. More permanent than any tattoo.

But he’s not done. Not even close.

“I told you not to move,” he says hoarsely, his voice wrecked from his release.