“Rebel, I don’t…I’m not sure this is the best—”
He grabs hold of my hair, winding it around his fist and drawing my head back. “Do you want me to stop, sugar? Do you not want me to sink myself inside you?” I can feel just how badly he wants to do that when he presses his hips up against mine, his solid hard on digging into my stomach. He pulls my hair back further, so that my neck is there for his taking. He lowers his mouth halfway to my skin, his eyes never leaving mine. They spark with fury and lust, combining to create something powerful and overwhelming. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you ’til you’re screaming and I’ll let you go right now.”
A hot shiver travels through me, making my body feel suddenly weak. God, this can’t be happening. Here? Now? It doesn’t seem right. I look over his shoulder, seeing that we’re in an empty corridor, completely and utterly alone.
“Well?” Rebel growls.
“Fine. I do. I do want you,” I gasp. Admitting that is the final breaking point. I’ve crossed a line, a dangerous one, but right now, here in this moment with his body flush against mine and my skin burning up, I can’t seem to make myself care. Rebel growls again, the rumble vibrating through me as he descends on me, licking and biting at my neck. My head’s pounding, my blood surging through me, filled with adrenalin and endorphins.
His mouth on me feels amazing. His hands roaming all over my body, his powerful arms bracketing me in place against the wall. The pressure of his cock, demanding and hard against me as he grinds his hips upward. All of it feels incredible and wrong and I don’t want it to stop.
“Take off your dress,” he commands.
“I…I can’t. Someone might come.”
“They won’t,” he says. His voice is heavy with need, his hands already pulling at the material of my dress. “This is a servant’s walkway. Everyone’s out on the floor, doing their jobs. No one will come.” I don’t get any further say in the matter. Rebel rips the dress up over my head, leaving me standing in front of him in nothing but my underwear. He makes a stifled groaning noise as he leans back and takes me in.
“You’re fucking perfect. So fucking perfect.” Dipping down, he runs his tongue along the swell of my cleavage, his mouth hot on my body. “Do you want me?” he asks, his breathing coming even quicker than before.
I tell the truth, because it’s all I can do. “Yes.”
“Do you want me to possess you? To make you mine?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” The very prospect has been the one thing I’ve been afraid of since he took ownership of me from Julio, but now I’m desperate for it. Begging him, just like he said I would underneath that oak tree.
He’s upset. He’s pissed off and boiling with anger, but that just seems to add to this undeniable attraction I feel coursing through my veins. “How badly do you want to touch me?” he rumbles.
“Really…really badly.”
“Then undress me.” He steps back, tilting his head back, challenging me yet again, not just to allow this to happen but to participate. To prove to myself that I do want this. I slide my hands over his chest, up the front of his white dress shirt, and then underneath his black suit jacket. His mouth twitches, either with the beginnings of a smile or with amusement at the way my hands are shaking. He doesn’t tease me, though. If anything, the look in his eyes is keen with curiosity, waiting to see just how far I really will go. I pull his suit jacket over his shoulders, my heart slamming erratically as I feel the hard ridges and planes of his muscular back underneath my fingertips. His physique is hard won. Five years at military school, two tours in Afghanistan and the years he’s been running the Widow Makers can’t have been easy. I’m definitely reaping the rewards of his labor.
His suit jacket hits the floor. I start working on the buttons of his shirt, aware of his eyes burning into my flesh. Another bolt of adrenalin zigzags through me when he leans into my neck again and whispers, “If you don’t hurry up, I’m gonna have to take you fully dressed.”