It had been the best sex of my life, and I’d done nothing but cry about it. Donovan probably didn’t even know how much I’d loved it.
With cheeks still red, I side-glanced at him. “I want to do it again. Not right now. Not always. But definitely. It was everything I’d imagined it would be. More, actually. I’m sorry that I ruined it.”
With a mischievous lift of his lip, he reassured me. “Trust me, you didn’t ruin it.”
I stayed locked in his gaze, and I realized then that he had me. Really had me. Like a fly caught in a web. From the outside, it seemed so much more tenuous and fragile, this hold of his. Like getting near him was risky but wouldn’t do any long-term harm because I’d manage to break free. What was a web anyway but mere strands of thin silk?
But I was inside his trap now. Stuck. And his hold wasn’t fragile at all. I was going nowhere until he cut me loose. Any moment now he would—he’d decide that he was no longer interested in feasting on his captured prey, and he’d cut me from his web. But I’d become too wrapped up in his spinning to escape undamaged. My wings would tear and break. I’d be destroyed.
On a sudden impulse, I climbed into his lap, straddling him. He brought his knees up behind me, creating a natural seat. Marveling at the smoothness of his skin, I ran my hands over the firm peaks of his pecs and down the ridged planes of his abs.
“You scare me, too,” I whispered. A thrill ran down my spine as his cock stirred beneath me.
He ran a single finger from my cleavage up to the base of my throat. Lightly he pressed against my windpipe. “I like that I do.”
“But it’s different.”
He continued trailing his fingers up my neck until he got to my chin. There he stopped and rubbed his thumb back and forth across my lower lip. “Because I stopped Theo? That doesn’t mean I’m any less vile.”
“Because I want you to scare me, and you know it. Because the way you’re vile fits the way I’m vile.” I sucked hard on his thumb.
“You’re not vile,” he groaned. He drew his wet thumb from my lips and placed his hand firmly behind my neck so he could pull me down toward him.
“Then neither are you,” I managed before his mouth crashed against mine.
Our lips played with each other’s. Our tongues tangled. He licked deep inside my mouth, getting lost behind my teeth. He bruised me with the pressure of his nips along my jaw.
He was content to just kiss me like this for a long time. Well, not just kiss me. I lost my shirt—his shirt—right away, and his hands wandered up and down my body. Everywhere. Fondling my breasts. Pinching my nipples. Teasing past the crack in my ass.
I touched him as much as I could in return, sweeping my hands across his torso and bucking my hips against the growing length of his cock. But mostly, I clutched onto his neck and held on for dear life. Because though this wasn’t the first time I’d kissed him or rode him or coiled my fingers in his hair, this was the first time I was truly aware of what I was doing. That no matter what Donovan wanted this to be, I was not just having sex with him. This was not a non-relationship. Not for me.
And while I didn’t know what he wanted anymore or what would come next, I was sure that I needed to hold on.
Eventually, he tightened his arms around me and stood up. I wrapped my legs around him, locking my ankles at his waist. Without breaking his kiss, he carried me over to the bed and laid me on it. He undid the drawstring on his sweats, and I moved up to my knees so I could get a good look when he dropped them to the floor.
Jesus, he was hung.
I’d seen his cock before. Of course, I had.
But somehow seeing him completely naked, his firm thighs a mouthwatering background to the centerpiece, made his erection seem even fuller and heavier and more substantial than it ever had before.
I licked my tongue along my bottom lip. His eyes shone, the green flecks shimmering with satisfaction at the way I looked at him. With my eyes glued to his every move, he wrapped his hand around his shaft and tugged upward.
“Please,” I begged, my voice trembling, and I didn’t even know what I was begging for, but Donovan knew what I needed.
Wordlessly, he pushed me onto my side and curled up behind me. I immediately missed being able to watch him, but any objection I had to his chosen position was swallowed when he turned my chin toward him and devoured my mouth as he entered me with a long, slow glide.
He fucked me at a leisurely pace, his strokes pulling all the way out to the tip before pushing in again, deep. So deep. Balls deep. My nerves hummed from the intensity, but my orgasm couldn’t build enough to take off at this speed. It was luxuriously tormenting.
Soon, Donovan rolled onto his back, pulling me with him so that I was tight against his chest. It was harder to kiss him like this, but he had full access to my body, and he took advantage of it, playing with my breasts and rubbing at my clit in lazy circles, drawing my climax closer and closer and closer—
“Don’t come,” he commanded.
“I have to. I’m so close.” I was already on the edge.
“Don’t, Sabrina. I mean it.” His teeth sunk into the shell of my ear, a warning.
The haze around me dulled enough for me to think. “Then stop touching me like that.”
He was still massaging my clit, still tweaking my nipple in his other hand. “Uh-uh.”
The tension continued to build like a pressure cooker. I tried to sit up, tried to pull away from his attention, but he held me in place. “This isn’t fair.”
“My house, my rules. Remember?”
“Ah, fuck,” I moaned as his cock hit a particularly sensitive spot. “I. God. I can’t.”
“You will.”
Without him telling me what they were, I knew that my disobedience would have consequences.
And I wanted to obey him, for whatever reason.
Because I was in his bed.
Because it would make him happy.
Because it was natural.
So I fought against the growing tension, even as Donovan made it more and more impossible, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, pressing harder on my clit.
All the while he threatened at my ear, “Don’t do it, Sabrina. Don’t you dare come. Don’t you dare,” and he might as well have said, “Don’t you dare fall for me,” because pretty soon I realized it was just as pointless. Everything he did was leading toward that anyway. Everything he did was pushing me up, up, up and eventually, where else was I going to go? Eventually I’d—
“Now,” he growled.
—fall.
Just like that, on command, my orgasm tore through me, sending me spinning and spinning and spinning like a top—out-of-control and frenetic. Whirling so fast I was dizzy with euphoric, chaotic bliss.
He was right there with me, grunting out his climax in symmetry with mine. Both of us joined physically but experiencing our own separate rapture like we were two spiral galaxies revolving around each other in harmony.
It was beautiful. And perfect. And so much more than anything we’d shared before.
At least, it was for me.
It was a good feeling, a sweet ecstasy, and I didn’t want to disrupt it by thinking about what it was for him until I had to.