Page 107 of The Billionaire's Christmas Bride

"I can’t hear you," I taunt.

She kicks out, I angle away, and she tips over.

I grasp her shoulder and keep her upright.

She swings at me, connects with the arm of my injured hand. Pain explodes behind my eyes.

"Fuck!"

I loosen my grip and she throws herself at me. Her weight connects with my chest. I stagger back, hit the wall of the shower cubicle. She hooks her leg around my waist, hauls herself up, and climbs me like she’s a cat and I am her personal scratching post… Fuck. She lowers her head, digs her teeth into my neck, on the side of my injured finger.

"You little hellion!" I grab the back of her neck, tug. She doesn’t let go. I apply pressure; she holds on. Pain shoots down my injured arm and my finger hurts. I squeeze down, her shoulders tremble, and her body arches. She gasps and her hold loosens. I pull her back, lower my face to hers, "I am going to teach you a lesson that you’ll never forget."

31

Amelie

Water from the shower drums against me. His grey gaze clashes with mine. His features twist into an expression of rage…? Of arousal? His nostrils flare. "I am going to fuck you like you are mine."

Am I his?

Is he mine?

Do I want him to fuck me?

No.

No.

"Yes." I peel back my lips, "Finally."

He crashes his mouth into mine, thrusts his tongue inside, sucks on me, demands that I open myself to him, that I give in to him.No, no. I can’t. Yes, you can. Show him you won’t back down, that you’re not scared of what he does to you. That you will not turn and hide from the emotions he evokes in you.I tip up my chin, wind my arms around his neck, dig my thighs into his waist, press my melting center to the hardness that tents his pants.

"Fuck me," his harsh whisper chafes my skin and my nerve endings flare. My brain cells seem to evaporate. Poof, I am smoke. I am one melting, writhing mass of need in his arms.

Take me. Tear into me. Sink into me. Push all thoughts out of my head.I don’t want to think, don’t want to worry about the future, the past. All that matters is me, here, with him, clinging to him, holding on with every single strand of strength in my body. Him. I want him. Only him. I tear my mouth from his, "Fuck me."

Before the words are out of my mouth, he’s flipped positions. My back presses into the wall. The weight of him pins me. His massive body cuts off the water. The blood drums in my ears; my pulse thuds against my neck, my wrists, at my ankles… The beat between my legs grows, louder, needier, angrier. "Now," I huff. "Do it."

His lips twist. He brings his hand up to curl his large fingers around my neck. I gulp. Shit, I’d asked… Demanded that he fuck me. Isn’t that, like, against the rules of dominance with this man? Am I not supposed to ask for what I want?

His fingers meet around the diameter of my neck. He presses his thumb into the pulse that skitters at the base of my throat. "Aren’t you forgetting something?"

I frown.

He tilts his head.

I lower my chin.

He glares at me and the blood drains from my face, straight to my cunt. My head spins. My throat closes. I flick out my tongue to touch my lips; his gaze drops to my mouth.

He growls and my stomach seems to bottom out. Oh, my God. This man… He’s too hot, too much. Too everything.

"Do it," he barks.

I hesitate.

"Or not." He steps back