eyes. He was still testing me. Still unsure.
I crossed my arms. “I meant what I said, Alec. You can’t stay here if you’re unwilling to let go of your martyr crap and be with me. I want to fuck.”
It may’ve been a crude way to put it, but he seemed to respond to me best when I was fired up. I just hoped it didn’t backfire. His eyes narrowed, but his lips twitched into an almost smile—something between pleased and amused.
In answer, he pulled his black T-shirt over his head and threw it to the ground, putting his glorious, tattooed, scarred body on display. I raked my eyes over the muscle and the ink, the raised pink scars, and the smooth skin. My lips parted slightly.
I walked over to him and dropped my hands to his shoulders—these shoulders had carried so much. So much pain, so many worries, so much responsibility.
“Are you sure you—”
“Shut the fuck up, Alec,” I rushed out before leaning forward and crushing my mouth to his. He responded with a low growl, his hands going to my hips and tugging me closer. I lifted one knee to the mattress and left one foot planted on the floor between his feet. He had to tilt his head up to kiss me, and I liked having the upper hand. I was the one guiding the kiss, controlling the angle.
As we kissed—our tongues battling, our teeth scraping—he dragged his hands down my sides until his palms found skin at my legs. Then he trailed them back up, lifting the cotton hem of my shirt. When he reached my hips, where his fingers should have found my underwear, he broke the kiss and stared at me.
His stunning eyes were hooded with lust, but there was also a hint of surprise, as well as some other, more perplexing emotion.
He didn’t let himself get lost in it though. He moved his hands to cup my bare ass and squeezed, kneading the cheeks. His breath washed over my chest, tickling the spot just above the neckline. His mouth was so close to my breasts—I couldn’t stop remembering how good his tongue had felt when it circled my nipples.
I yanked my top off and threw it somewhere behind me. I was completely naked, hovering above the Master of Pain as his hot breath washed over my breasts and his hungry eyes took me in. I had a feeling he was hovering too—hovering on the edge of giving in to our relationship, our Bond. If he needed more pushing, I would push, but I knew I nearly had him.
I moved backward to remove his pants, but he stopped me. Apparently he was done letting me take charge.
He held me to him with one strong hand still on my ass. The other moved to the back of my knee, nudging until I was right where he wanted me—both knees planted on the mattress, straddling him. I was spread open, and a shiver crawled up my spine as the cool air hit the heat and wetness between my legs. But he didn’t let me lower onto his lap. The hand on my ass kept me upright as he leaned forward to wrap his mouth around my right nipple, just as I’d hoped he would only moments ago. As his teeth bit down lightly, I moaned. He moved to the other breast, giving it the same treatment. My nails dug into his shoulders, one hand going to the back of his head to hold him close. I didn’t want him to stop.
But he did, releasing my left breast after one last bite that bordered on painful—if anyone knew how to walk the line between pleasure and pain, it was Alec. His hot tongue licked a trail between my breasts and up to my collarbone; his hands ghosted along the inside of my thighs.
He ran two fingers over my already slick folds before making a circle down, then back up my thighs. His fingers ran over me again, this time with more pressure—feeling how wet I was for him before he’d even touched me there. He groaned and pressed his face into the bend of my neck, kissing, licking, and biting between pants. His chest pressed flush against my front, and all I could do was try to remain upright as he slipped his fingers inside.
He didn’t give me a chance to adjust—didn’t check if I was ready or if this was how I wanted it. He just held