His eyes snap to mine.
“Maybe.”
That fucking smirk again.
“You sure?” I ask, rolling my shoulders as I stalk closer. “Because last time you tried, you ended up begging with your knees spread and my hand around your throat.”
He lunges.
It’s not anger; it’s instinct.
He slams into me again, and I let it happen. Let him get me against the wall. His forearm presses into my chest, hard, but his hands are shaking.
“You think you scare me?” I breathe, grabbing his hips and flipping him.
He grunts as I shove him face-first into the bed, twisting his arm behind his back and grinding my body into his from behind.
“You’re not here to fight me, Recon,” I growl against his neck. “You’re here to submit.”
“Screw you.” He grunts.
“Already planning to.”
I release his arm, and he stays where I left him. Face down, panting, body trembling under mine.
I press a hand to the back of his neck.
“Don’t move.”
He doesn’t.
I reach around, slide my hand down the front of his jeans, and find him already hard. So damn hard it makes me groan.
“That for me?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer.
So I squeeze.
“Answer me.”
“Yes.” It’s breathless. Broken and real.
I unfasten his pants, pull them down enough to bare him, then press my cock, still clothed, against his ass. He shudders.
“You’re gonna take it,” I murmur darkly, my voice low and rough in his ear. “You’re gonna take every inch and thank me when I’m done.”
“Please,” he whispers, eyes shut tight, fists clenched in the cushions.
That’s what I needed.
I kiss down his spine.
Then I kneel behind him, spreading him open with both hands, watching his body twitch under the air and my stare.
“You want this?” I whisper into his ear.
“Always.” He breathes, and I see a smile forming on the side of his lips.
