“Watch it, sweetness.”
“I don’t hate you, but I want to.”
“I know.” He kisses me again. I sink my fingers into his short hair as my tongue strokes against his. My hips move, and Z shifts, lining up his hard cock with my sex. I whimperwhen he thrusts, making his cock rub against my clit. My body instinctively moves with his, knowing exactly who it belongs to.
“Z.” I gasp. “I need?—”
“Me.” His mouth goes to my neck, licking and sucking. “You need me.” I grip his hair tighter, mad that he’s right. “Say it.”
“I need you.” I give, wanting to please him.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers into my ear. The way he says it makes it sound so erotic, but maybe it only sounds that way because I want to be his girl so badly. I always have. There has only ever been Z for me for as long as I can remember. I tried for years to push down those feelings, but there was no denying them.
Z moves, carrying me through the villa, his mouth never leaving my neck. He goes straight for my room, kicking the door closed behind him before tossing me onto the bed. I watch as he pulls his shirt off over his head, dropping it to the floor before toeing off his shoes next. Holy crap. Last time we were together, I didn’t get the chance to really enjoy the view. Why the hell does he have to be so damn handsome? Everything about him turns me on.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to fuck you. That’s what I’m doing.”
"No, I'm mad at you." I lick my lips.
"You can fight me if it makes you feel better." He smirks, actually freaking smirks! Damn, it's hot too. "You want to fight me?"
"Maybe." I press my thighs together; that idea is hotter than it should be.
"You sure?" He steps closer, coming to stand on the side of the bed. I have to drop my head back to stare up at him. He towers over me when I’m standing, never mind when I’m sitting down. Z's fingers slide gently through my hair before fisting a handful and tugging my head back more. "Be really sure."
My heart is now pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it too.
“Fuck you.”
Z’s nose flares; his hand tugs again, harder, making me gasp. “I’ll make you sweet again,” he says before releasing his hold on my hair. I remember him repeatedly calling me "sweetness" during the night we spent together.
“You can—” My words are cut off when Z grabs me by the hips, easily flipping me onto my stomach as if I weigh nothing. “What are you doing?” I wiggle, trying to move, but he has a hand on my lower back, keeping me in place.
“I’m doing whatever I want to.” He flips up my skirt, yanking my panties down my thighs. “Keep still,” Z orders. I obviously do the opposite and keep trying to move. I gasp when he yanks me down the bed so that I’m bent over it. His hand comes down on my ass. I let out a loud gasp.
“You spanked me.” Did he really spank me? More importantly, why do I want him to do it again?
"Spread your legs," he orders, already kneeing them apart before I can do anything. His hand comes down on my ass again. This time the other cheek. "When I tell you to do something, you do it."
"Go fuck yourself." Z's hand gently strokes my bottom where he spanked.
"I have been fucking myself, but now you're here, so I'm going to fuck you."
"Oh God." I try to close my legs again, not because I don't want him there. My clit is starting to ache, and I need the friction.
"Knock it off." His hand comes down on my ass again.
"Okay." I try to be still.
Z's hand drifts down lower to between my thighs. "This is for me." He cups my sex, and I know he can feel how turned on I am. It coats my thighs. One finger strokes over the seam of my sex,making sure not to touch my clit. I try to lift my hips, but when I do, his hand stops moving altogether. He’s drawing this out. I both love and hate it at the same time.
“Sweetness,” he warns.
“Z, I ache,” I plead with him.
“Then be a good girl and do as you’re told, and I’ll make it better.” I dig my fingers into the comforter. My natural instincts are to talk back to him. That has been the standard for years between us, but I know that won’t get me what I want.
