Bound by his arm on her back, she could only kick her legs and accept the pleasure he allowed her. In turn, her responsive cries propelled him to a euphoric state of lust.
He added another finger and banged her cunt, twisting his wrist and massaging her G-spot as she groaned and rubbed her clit against the sensitive ridges of his cock.
Christ in heaven, the need to fuck her was a raging thing inside him, tearing him to shreds in its attempt to rip out and shove in her. But he couldn't force her.
He bit down on his lip, tasting blood, and dropped his hands to the floor.
Panting, she lifted her head, looked up into his face with heated eyes, then at his hands, back at his face. Her expression fell, and she slid off his lap. “Why?”
Why did he spank her? Or why did he stop? He grabbed her shorts, halting her attempt to pull them up. “I control this.” He gripped his dick with his free hand, squeezing hard to dull the ache, and lowered his voice. “And this.” He released his cock and gestured around them, encompassing the cereal, the covered windows, the overhead lights, and her gorgeously flushed body. “I control all of it.”
She studied him for a silent moment then slipped her legs out of the shorts in his grip and rose. His muscles stiffened to chase, but she didn't run. She backed up until her ass hit the fridge, nude from the waist down, nipples pressing against her tank top. Her heavy-lidded eyes locked with his, her jaw lowered and closed with a whispering inhale. A wordless Yes. An undeniable plea.
Climbing to his feet, he tucked himself into his jeans and pulled up the zipper. Then he stalked toward her, mirroring the tilt of her head, knees and shoulders loose, and his gaze holding her prisoner. A breath away, he paused, soaking in the subtleties of her tipped-up chin, parted lips, and glossy but resolute eyes.
With the next breath, he lunged, hands on her jaw, fingers spread around the back of her head. His elbows dropped, shoulders raised, and he yanked her to him, lifting her on tiptoes, guiding her mouth, taking it. His grip twisted through her hair as he drew in her upper lip and shoved her against the fridge, following her with the weight of his body.
The kiss went fucking wild, their lips mashing in a frantic battle. His tongue plunged her mouth, attacking, thrusting in and out, possessing her movements, owning her. Breath for breath, lick after lick, he ate at her mouth, tasting, devouring.
He dropped his hands to her breasts, squeezing ruthlessly as he rolled his cock against her cunt. His tongue tingled, his skin burned, and his head swam. God, she was a drug, and he was so fucking high.
She gripped his biceps, bit at his lips, and threw her arms over his shoulders, her fingers scratching the fuck out of his back. He shuddered, loving it, but he was in control.
Reaching back, he grabbed her wrists and slammed them above her head. Their bodies ground together, his forearms pressing hers to the fridge, their tongues dancing and clashing. Chest-to-chest, hips fused together, he flexed his ass, dry humping her like a horny teenager.
Jesus, fuck, he didn't care. He wanted her.
He leaned back to study her face and found strong smoldering eyes, sharp breaths, and swollen wet lips. Whatever she saw in his expression made her mouth chase his and her fingers curl around his hands. They kissed endlessly, fueling the fire and pushing his control long past the point of discomfort before pulling back and starting all over again.
When he broke the kiss with a hand on her jaw, they panted as one, mouths open and so close their bottom lips brushed. She peered at him through lowered lashes, and he stared back in awe. What trembled between them wasn't an if? Or even a how hard? Those were foregone. The question they shared was simple.
Ready?
With his body holding her weight against the fridge and her arms restrained by his hand overhead, she lifted her calves, sliding them up his legs. Her feet dug into the back of his thighs, pulling him impossibly closer and trapping his cock between them.
She kissed his lips and leaned back as her gaze caught on the overhead light and froze. Along with her breath.
The goddamned lights. How could she not be over that?
His fingers fell from her rigid face. Fuck him, he was in hell.
Amber squeezed her eyes shut, stomach tightening with nausea, and tried to pull free of Van's grip. Her hands wouldn't budge, held by one of his above her head. “The lights.”
“Jesus, Amber. I've seen every gorgeous inch of you.” His breath was so close, heating her cheek and vibrating with frustration. “Open your fucking eyes.”