He came toward me with that intense look of his I knew well. Before I could stop him, he slid his hand around my waist and yanked me the rest of the way to him. Bending his face to mine, he growled, “No, you don’t need to think. You need to feel.”
His spare hand pressed against my stomach and then slid down into the shorts I was wearing. I sucked in a breath when his hand slipped inside my panties and he held my pussy in his hand and gripped tight. He moved so he could whisper in my ear, “Feel that, baby. Feel my fucking need for you.” Then his hand around my waist moved to my ass and pushed me into him, into his erection. “Feel how hard my dick is for you.”
“I feel you, Donovan, but it doesn’t take my anger away.”
His lips crushed to mine in a brutal kiss. We both poured our anger and passion into it. Lips, tongues and teeth collided. My body pulsed with pleasure, and my mind raced to process the mixed emotions assaulting it. I kissed him, but at the same time, I fought him. My hands tried to push him off me, but his strength wouldn’t allow it. His hold on me was too hard to fight. And when he pushed his fingers inside my pussy, I jerked from the explosion of sensations that shot through me.
I moaned into his mouth. I couldn’t stop it.
He pulled away from the kiss to stare at me. “You feel it, don’t you?” he demanded as his fingers continued to pleasure me.
“Yes,” I said, and pulled his face back to mine. Our lips met in another excruciating kiss.
Oh god. This man could be my saviour and my downfall all rolled into one if I wasn’t careful.
His fingers worked me into a frenzy, until I was a panting mess in his arms. As I came, he rasped, “I fucking love watching you come.”
I opened my eyes and focused on him. His need was written all over his face, and my core clenched at that. My need still warred with my anger, but need would always win out. I grasped his face in my hands and begged him, “Fuck me, Donovan.”
A growl rumbled out of his chest, and he lifted me into his arms. My arms and legs wrapped around him, and he carried me into my bedroom depositing me on the bed. He tore his clothes off, not taking his eyes off me while I frantically stripped, too. I was sprawled across the bed, and he spread my legs before moving on top of me. As he did that, I wrapped my legs around him and held on tight, ready for him to take me. His cock pressed against my entrance but he didn’t push in yet.
Staring down at me, he asked, “You gonna stay mad for long?”
“Just fuck me.” My eyes pleaded with his.
He teased me with his cock, pushing it against me and then pulling away. “No,” he grunted, “tell me.”
I moved my hands to his head and pulled hard on his hair. “I don’t know.”
He buried his face in my neck and bit me hard before sucking and licking me.
Fuck, yes.
I tilted my hips, trying to push myself into his cock, but he moved his hips up, thwarting me.
“Fuck me!” I demanded, and his head reared up, angry eyes coming to mine.
“Feel me!” he yelled back.
“I am fucking feeling you.”
“No, you’re not!” He pushed up off me, and although I had my legs tight around him, his strength was too much for me to fight and he pushed through my hold and stood. Standing at the edge of the bed, body straining with anger and passion, he demanded, “Put all that shit out of your head, and feel it here.” He pounded on his chest before continuing. “Life’s too fucking short to let that other shit get in the way of what we feel, and I’m not going to fucking lose it again.”
I watched his breathing grow ragged and took in the ravaged look on his face. There was something else going on here, and my anger eased enough to let him in. I moved off the bed and into his space. Placing my hand on his chest, I asked softly, “What won’t you lose again, baby?”
His chest heaved, and he took a moment to answer me. “You. I won’t fucking lose you.”
He wasn’t making sense; he’d never lost me before. “I’m not going anywhere, Donovan. I’m just mad, but I’ll get over it.”
“Now,” he forced out, “You need to get over it now. I’m not doing this again . . . ”
He still wasn’t making any sense. I grabbed his face with both my hands and begged, “Tell me what you’re not doing again.”
The despair on his face pierced my heart. My strong man struggled with so much, and all I wanted to do in that moment was wrap him in my arms and never let go. I wanted to soothe his hurt and take it all away from him. But that wasn’t how life worked, and he had to move through it before he could escape from its clutches.
I waited, but he didn’t say anything.