When he thought he’d reached a safe degree of control, he reared his hand back and slapped her thigh with as much force as a hundred pound girl could absorb.
She smiled. Fucking smiled.
He licked those teasing lips. “Harder?”
The turned-up corners of her mouth stretched wider.
As small as she was, he would’ve thought she’d be more fragile, breakable. Yet, his hands had been all over her miniature packs of muscle, and he knew her strongest spot. It could take a harder strike.
He captured her untied leg, hooked it around his waist, and used it to lift her ass away from the mattress. Target bared, he unleashed an open-handed swing.
That got him a burning palm and a twitch in her thigh. Damn, the tough little brat. He settled her on her back and rolled his hips between her legs. “I’m not anywhere close to doing it for you, am I?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m having sex with the only three-time winner of People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive. If that weren’t enough, I’m lying in a wet spot”—she wiggled her hips—”that proves you actually live up to every explicit rumor I’ve read about you.”
Motherfuck. She followed the gossip rags. “Charlee, you can’t believe the shit they write about me.”
“Can’t I? There are a holyfuckton of women crowing about your unapologetic fucking. They even named your famous positions.”
Oh Jesus, she knew about that. “Don’t—”
“The Limp Away From Jay Lay.”
A small smile touched her lips, but he didn’t miss the flatness in her tone. She was jealous. It shouldn’t have, but the notion gave him a selfish little thrill.
“Then there’s the Mayard Mount.” She stared at his chest, eyebrows drawn.
He hated that his depravity cluttered the Internet. All she had to do was open a browser and type his name. All the shit he’d done with those women would be shoved in her face, mocking her.
“The Hands-Free Blow Me.” She gave him a pitying look.
“I think I lost my hard-on.” He thrust his hips to remind her where his dick was.
“Oh, and I’m currently experiencing a fan favorite, right? The Rope Burn.” She twisted her wrists in the binds and glared at him.
Was she just being open with him or was she pissed? A string of ugly emotions tore through him. Leading the brigade was his regret over all the meaningless places he’d put his dick. Surely, she understood what he thought of those women?
He dropped his brow to hers. “I’m sorry, Charlee. I can give you some trite excuses about how those women meant nothing. I’d like to think you know me well enough to see that.” He lifted his hips to pull out of her.
Her leg around his waist stiffened. “Fuck me like you fucked them.”
Unease punched through him. He looked down into her electric, singular eyes, sparking blue with flecks of silver. She was singular. He’d never treat her like them. “Never.”
“I know I mean something different to you. I’m not asking you to think of me the way you think of them. God, I don’t think I could bear it if you did.” She sighed. “I built up this really high pain threshold. I had to.” Her eyes slid to the side. “And I just need you to not treat me so delicately.”
Oh Charlee. She thought if he treated her like those women, he’d be rougher with her? He scattered kisses over her eyelids, cheeks, and lips. “Don’t worry about your threshold. I’ll get past it.” He would research, figure out how to get creative. For now, he’d have to go with blunt strength.
It would’ve been easier to flip her over and spank her while fucking her doggie-style. No way was he going to come in her the first time without looking into the eyes he’d dreamt about for three years.
Lowering his weight on her chest, he shoved her knee against her shoulder and rammed into her. His thrusts, harder than he’d ever attempted with anyone, filled the room with the wet sound of skin smacking skin. Fuck, she felt good.
Her body clenched against the force of each lunge, and her eyes blinked rapidly. He kept his movements measured, determined not to give her more than she could handle.
The bed scooted until it hit the wall. The headboard rocked and creaked. And Charlee’s pleasure flowed out in an erotic stream of moans.
It was insane. Beautiful. Unbelievably arousing. And it was a miracle he hadn’t lost his load yet. He tried not to look at the toned lines of her pinned leg beneath his fingers. The dramatic curve of her waist. The way her tits jogged with the intensity of his thrusts.
“Come for me, Charlee.”
She nodded. At least he thought it was a nod. Her whole body was nodding beneath his driving hips.
“Hurry.” His voice was guttural and distant beneath the roar of blood in his ears. “I’m barely hanging on.”
Her arms writhed in the rope. “I want to touch you.”
Christ. Fuck. Never had he considered being touched during sex, but his heart leapt at the thought of Charlee’s hands on him.
It was a terrible idea. He slammed into her. “Would touching me help you come?”