His lips crash down on mine again, his tongue parting them and exploring my mouth like he owns it. The way his kisses me stabs at something tender inside me, and this is when I realize how fucking dangerous this is.
I wrap my fingers around his throat and nudge him away ever so slightly, just far enough that his lips can’t reach mine. “No more kissing on the lips,” I place the first boundary in front of him, knowing full well that eventually he’ll steamroll through it.
Thankfully, for now, he listens.
He adjusts himself just far enough down my body and unzips my jacket, ripping it open and shoving my shirt up.
His big hand curls around my ribcage. “Can I kiss you here?”
He doesn’t wait for my answer; he just lowers his mouth to the underside of my breast and kisses me there with more tongue than anything.
He moves his head an inch lower and repeats the process. By the time he’s reached my hip bone, I’m so fucking done for that I couldn’t bite back at him if I wanted to—and I don’t.
He sucks at my sensitive skin as he pulls down the waistband of my leggings. “Here, Kruz?”
I thread my fingers through his hair and grip it tightly at his scalp; answer enough.
Ezra puts me in a headspace I’ve never been in before I met him, which is a huge part of the reason I kept going back for more for as long as I did. And it’s why now, when I definitely should not be letting this happen, the lizard part of my brain decides that a little hate sex might be the answer.
I at least deserve an orgasm for all the shit he’s put me through.
But when he hooks my leg over his shoulder and looks up at me with those big blue eyes of his, I think there’s a softness there that tells me it’s only hate sex for me… becausehedoesn’t hatemeat all.
And then he licks a long, slow line from my entrance to my clit, my head falls back against the pillow, and I’m unable to form a coherent thought at all.
Is this his plan? Bring me to this island and fuck me into submission? If so, it’s working.
Two thick fingers curl inside me, and he growls at the way my pussy clenches around them. I don’t bother stifling the moan that comes out of my mouth. He’s always been able to bring me to the edge quicker than anyone else.
Includingme.
His free hand slips under the hem of my shirt. I’m not wearing a bra because, well, he didn’t bring any extras.Wonder why that could be.
He toys with my nipple, and I grind against his face. It’s him who moans this time. I know it’s combination of all the ways he’s touching me right now, but it’s the sound coming from deep in his chest and sight of him grinding his cock into the mattress for relief—like he’s getting just as much out of this as I am—that wracks my body with tremors.
He doesn’t let up until I’m squirming away from him, physically unable to take another second of his torture.
He slithers back up my body like the snake he is, and I finally come back to my senses. “We’re not fucking,” I deadpan.
But he doesn’t so much as flinch at the words I meant to be a slap to his face.
He just kisses my forehead. My temple. My cheek. The corner of my mouth, so close to my lips that I almost turn my head a little just so I can taste myself on his.
But then he’s pulling away, standing, adjusting his thick cock in his pants like he’s not as wanton right now as Iknowhe is. “Whatever is enough for you is enough for me.”
That’s all he says before turning to leave.
The loss of his presence in the room is almost unbearable.
But what is even more so is that when I finally peel myself away from the bed to pull on one of Ezra’s massive t-shirts to sleep in and step into the kitchen to make tea, I can hear him in the shower… and from the sound of things, that most definitely wasnotenough for him.
He grunts in pleasure, so loudly I can hear it from the kitchen, and as loud as the water from the shower beating down is, I think he’s probably left the door open just so I would.
Because he knows I’ll picture it.
Because he wants me to.
Heat prickles at the back of my neck, my grip tightening on the counter as I force myself to focus on anything else—on the dull hum of the fridge, the faint creak of the old pipes.
