Trav’s iron-hard body grinds against me, hot breath whispers over my cheek.
God.I hate him right now—really fucking hate him—but raw and reckless Travis is my kryptonite. It’s not the first time he’s been in a state like this, and I doubt this’ll be the last time he gets here, but it’s rare. I should take advantage, right? Becausefuuuuuckdo I want him.
My chest does a bit of a glide, pushing into him as my back arcs, and I exhale a shaky breath.
“That’s it, pretty boy. I see you. You can’t hide wanting me.”
“I hate you,” I snap, opening my throat for him.
“Good,” he snarls, feasting on my neck as he pleases. “Hate me all you want, as long as you know you’re mine. As long as you don’t forget who you’re about to spread your pretty little ass for.”
My body trembles with need. “Travis,” I whisper. Don’t think that “Travis” had the tone behind it he feels chastised by. That one was all lust. I stop thinking and grab for his belt, fumbling to get it undone, desperate to get to his cock. He lets me, sucking on my pulse point, rasping when I get my hand around his large shaft.
“You,” he says with barely enough breath. “You make me fucking crazy.”
“Good.”
I stroke his cock as he nips and bites my neck. His hips move, thrusting into my hand until he seems to remember he could be doing something so much better with it. He bats my hand away and drags me to the floor—that’s new. We’ve done it all over this office, against the walls, the door, over the desk, but shockingly, never the floor. He sits up on his knees, hard cock bobbing from his open pants, and yanks my sweats and boxers off in one go, tossing them way out of my reach.
“Open,” he demands, and my legs do his bidding, like I don’t even control them anymore. I’m way too fucking horny at this point. I’d bark like a dog if he told me to. “See? You think you’ve got a choice? But even your body knows it belongs to me.”
“You fucking asshole.”
“I’m about to tongue fuck that look off your face.” He’s such a smug bastard when he says it, too, because he knows he can.
Trav slides an arm under my thigh, hiking it higher, and settling between my legs. He spits into my hole and licks upward, taking the time to push inside.
I arch my back, hating how much I enjoy that biting tongue of his, my damn cock betraying me, but denying that I wish his mouth were on my cock would be a lie.
“Trav, please.” I push my cock toward him.
“Not a fucking chance, pretty boy. You take what I give you. You’re not coming just yet, anyway. Not till my cock’s demolishing your insides.”
He proceeds to torture me for what feels like a hundred years. My moans seem to bolster him, but he stops, positioning himself over me. I smell myself on his breath.
“No one else gets to see you like this, legs wide, waiting for me,” he growls. “Tell me.”
“No one else, Trav.”
“Stay.”
I hear the telltale sound of the drawer where he keeps the lube and the snick of a cap, then the wheeze of the bottle as he drenches it.
He pushes his cock into me, bit by agonizing bit, and then drags it out of me. That’s all it is for a slow minute from hell. When he’s got a good rhythm going, he crushes me against the floor, pinning my wrists like I’m nothing but goddamn prey he’s captured and fucks into me. I’m meant to lie here and take it, and oh God, what knowing that does to me. I whimper, moaning. I don’t recognize my own voice.
“This is where you belong, pretty boy,” his rough voice scrapes out amidst gruff pants. “On your back, taking me, nothing above you but me.”
The rug scrapes under my shoulder blades, and he grinds down harder, fucking me, claiming me. Yep, I’ll have carpet burn, but worth it. Conflicting feelings course through me, part of me still wanting to punch him in the face, but the other part is unable to tear away from the delicious way he makes me feel.
But then I remember why I was pissed at him in the first place. I’m pinned down because I let him pin me down. All it takes is a surprise wrench and twist to tug my arms free, and before he can wrestle me back into place, I’ve got him on his back, straddling his legs, sinking onto his cock hard enough to tame the beast within him for a few heartbeats. Gives me time to kick my right foot the rest of the way out of my sweatpants.
“You don’t get to decide my fucking life, Trav,” I snarl, riding him as he watches on in fascination. His fingers trail up my thick thigh.
His eyes are deep, dark spheres of coal, lips curled into a half-snarl, half-sneer that says he can’t decide if he wants to allow this to continue, or if he’s going to fight for dominance.
“If you were actually the one deciding, I wouldn’t intervene, but you’re not,” he says in a leisurely voice, finally deciding to enjoy the show he has on top of him. “So, we do it my way.”
“No.”
