“Shut up. You’re ruining this—”
I withdrew my fingers and spun her around before she could protest, pressing her forward over the countertop. My dick missed her touch instantly and I gripped it, focused on how good it would feel when I buried it inside her tight pussy.
Fuck. Condom.
I leaned over her and spoke into her ear. “Don’t you dare move. I want this ass out and waiting for me, or I swear I’ll make you beg for an hour before I let you come.”
“What?” The single word came out on a moan.
“Don’t move. I’m getting a condom.”
She didn’t reply, but I took her stillness for assent. I pulled my pants up over my cock and headed for the stairs. If she moved, then I’d jack off and pretend it was her sweet hand wrapped around my dick. If she didn’t move . . . then I guess I’d have my answer as to whether she wanted me more than she hated me.
Condom in hand from my bathroom, I strode back to the kitchen. A smile stretched my lips when I saw Yve bent over in the exact position I’d left her.
“Good girl. I’m going to make you come so fucking hard, and I’m not even going to make you beg.”
“Stop talking. Just fuck me.”
By the time her words were out, I’d already rolled on the condom and positioned myself behind her. I pressed the head of my cock to her entrance, and the tight, wet heat taunted me. In that moment, I had something to prove. She’d remember this moment for the rest of her damn life, and she’d be feeling me tomorrow.
“If this isn’t the best sex you’ve ever had, I’ll hand over the keys to my Aston.”
Yve’s husky laugh echoed through the kitchen. “Cocky bastard. I’ll enjoy—”
I drove inside her before she could finish the sentence.
“Holy shit,” I said on a breath, coming to a halt almost instantly. “You’re so damn tight.”
“I’m not screaming your name yet, Titan.” Her hips bucked back into me, taunting me and daring me to take her. Knowing she was as desperate for this as I was ratcheted up my determination another notch.
Challenge. Accepted.
I pulled almost all of the way out and plunged back inside as I slid my hand around her hip to tease her clit. Setting a powerful, even rhythm, I fucked her until her moans turned to broken cries.
“Give it to me,” I demanded.
“Shut up.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Don’t you goddamn dare—”
“Then you better tell me who’s fucking you.”
“Such an arrogant—”
I slowed, and her insult died.
“Just fuck me, Titan. God damn you.”
Hearing my name on her lips, edged with the raggedness of her need, spurred me on harder and faster. Within minutes, Yve’s inner walls fluttered around my cock. She was close. Holding off my own orgasm was testing the limits of my control.
“Give it to me, Yve. Let me hear you.”
“Oh my God.”
I pressed down harder on her clit.
“Titan!” Yve screamed as her muscles spasmed around me and she shuddered beneath me, her fingers gripping the far edge of the countertop.
“That works for me,” I said, and then I let go. My own roar of triumph bounced off the high ceiling. My hips continued to pump of their own volition. She’d stolen my control, ripped an orgasm straight from my balls.
As soon as I finished, Yve shifted beneath me. I stepped back, sliding from her body and promising myself it wouldn’t be long before I was back inside her.
This woman pushed all my buttons, taunted me, challenged me, mocked me. And the perverse son of a bitch that I was, I wanted more.
Yve slipped out from between me and the countertop, grabbed the robe off the floor, and shoved her shaking arms into the sleeves. Watching her, I rid myself of the condom, zipped my pants, and noted her heaving chest, wondering what she’d say next. I didn’t have to wait long.
“I . . . I have to go.”
“You need to eat,” I reminded her.
She turned to the door, and my first instinct was to reach out and grab her hand to stop her, but her reaction from earlier in the conservatory surfaced vividly. Someone had hit her—that much was clear. I was determined to hear the whole story where that was concerned. I might be a prick, but I would rip a man’s hands off if he raised them against a woman.
“Yve, stop.”
I FROZE AT THE COMMANDING tone of his voice. What the hell had I just done? I mean, beyond letting Lucas Titan bend me over and bang me like a cheap screen door on his kitchen counter.
Classy.
That’s exactly what I was.
My inner muscles clenched in protest; apparently they didn’t give a crap about whether I was classy or not. My body wanted more. That it was a problem of epic proportions wouldn’t be the understatement of the century.
Still motionless, I debated whether I should turn and face him, but decided instead that I’d wait to see what he said next.
Thirty seconds of awkward silence ticked by. I knew, because I counted. Finally he spoke.