“You might be when I’m done with you.”
My panties ended up on the floor with my shorts, leaving me naked from the waist down. I started to close my legs, but Hayden’s hands moved down the insides of my thighs, pushing them wider apart. His mouth followed the same path, teeth nipping along the way, driving me to the brink as he took his time getting where I wanted him. I writhed beneath him, too lost in erotic sensation to be self-conscious. His grin was wicked when he looked up from between my legs, tongue splayed as he licked up the center. Strong hands slid under me. He held me against his mouth, and that tiny steel ball circled sensitive skin. When I shuddered, he chuckled darkly and sucked hard.
He slowed down when I was close to an orgasm, his fingers feather light, his tongue just shy of where it would be most effective. When the driving sensation waned, he started up again, taking me back to the edge, over and over. I groaned, desperate for release.
“You sound frustrated,” Hayden said, giving me a lazy lick.
I lifted my hips, a silent plea for him to finish me, one way or another. He rested his cheek on my inner thigh and his arms hooked around my legs, holding me in place. It was the sweetest agony and nothing I’d ever experienced before. The intimacy of it blanketed out everything but him.
“I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss below the new tattoo, admiring his own handiwork. “I’m not sure what it is you want.”
“Please, Hayden.” I pushed his hair back from his face, playing nice.
“Please what?”
I made an impatient sound in the back of my throat and tried to close my legs again, but he wouldn’t let me. As seductively intense as he could be, he was being a tease. It was infuriating and exhilarating.
“Just tell me what you want from me, Tenley.”
I looked down at him, so placid and collected. How he maintained such composure when I was losing my mind was a wonder. He might be struggling as much as I was, but he was better at keeping a front. How na?ve of me to believe I’d ever had the upper hand.
“Right now I want you to make me come,” I whispered.
“With what?” His thumb brushed over my clit.
I arched into the touch. “Your mouth.”
“And then what?”
“After that I want you inside me.”
“What part of me?” He dragged a knuckle down and circled my entrance before slipping a finger inside.
“Your cock.” It came out a nearly unintelligible moan.
It must have been what he wanted to hear, because his mouth was on me almost instantly. His fingers moved in time with his tongue, curling up and in, finally providing the release I so desperately wanted.
Lethal in his feral beauty, Hayden prowled up my body, dropping languorous kisses along the way. I grabbed the hem of my shirt, but Hayden stopped me, intent on removing it himself. He lifted it over my head and paused. There was no bra.
“God, you’re sexy.” All traces of menace were wiped out as he cupped my breasts and drew careful circles around my nipples. “And these . . .” He bent his head, his lips replacing his finger.
“Okay?” he asked.
I nodded mutely and he watched me, testing my response as his lips parted, enveloping the taut skin. The smooth ball in his tongue completed a slow circuit, clicking dully against the barbell. It was almost too much.
“Are you sorry now?” he asked, and applied the gentlest of suction.
I groaned at the pleasure-pain and shook my head. “No. Should I be?”
“That depends.” He kissed his way across the valley to devote the same attention to the other breast. I grasped his hair as he licked at my nipple and blew on it. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Definitely not.” It was questionable whether he would agree to anything like this again. I doubted he lost control often. I pushed aside the fear of what might happen in the aftermath and pulled his shirt over his head so I could see him.
Vibrant color gave way to solid black lines. My fingers drifted over the ink. The muscles in his chest tensed and bunched as he held himself over me, allowing me to touch the canvas of his body. I could see now the rest of the colorful design on his arm, the orange fish splashing up a stream heavy with blossoms, half wilted, half alive. I traced the black lines on his chest and finally understood the pattern. It was a phoenix, the thick bands of ink traveling across his body and down into the waistband of his jeans. I could have spent hours uncovering his art, looking for the meaning in the pieces he chose to cover his skin.
“You’re gorgeous.”
He shook his head and settled between my legs, his belt buckle a cold shock against my stomach. His chest came flush with mine. The solid weight of his body grounded me in the present and kept me from falling backward into memories I didn’t want anymore. He was all that existed in this moment.