Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(76)

He loomed over her. She stared at the shadows that limned every curve and cut of his muscular, powerful body. He emanated a blast of fierce, macho energy that infuriated and excited her at the same time.

"Oh, go ahead. You be on top, Connor. Why fool ourselves?"

He wrenched the quilt down and shoved her flat on her back. "Where the hell did that crack come from?" he demanded.

Oops. Very smooth move. Now he was furious again. She placed her hands against his scorching chest, her breath quickening. "I don't know. It just comes to me. I can't help it."

He put his thigh between her legs and shoved them open. She was already wet, and he hadn't even touched her. She had transformed in the last thirty-six hours, and Connor was the catalyst. He was so volatile and bossy and sexually insatiable. He didn't politely disappear when she climaxed, like her fantasy Connor had. He stayed with her, his arms jealously tight. Taking up space, demanding attention.

She almost wanted him to shove himself inside her with crude force so her restless, prickly anger could be justified. She was hungry for his strength, his heat. Breathless with anticipation. Maddened.

"What?" she snapped. "Come on, Connor. Aren't you going to show me who's lord and master?"

He cupped her face in his hands. "Is that what you want?"

She wiggled against him. "Since when has what I wanted mattered to you?"

"That's not fair. I may have pushed you around about your millionaire, but I never forced you in bed. You came to me, remember?"

Did she ever. It was maddening, how much she wanted him, and how much power he wielded over her because of it. "What are you waiting for, Connor? Now who's being the tease?" she demanded.

"You're too angry," he said calmly. "You're setting me up."

She thrashed beneath him. "Oh, please. For God's sake," she flared. "I'm not that treacherous!"

"You don't even know how treacherous you are. This is wilderness territory. For both of us."

"Connor—"

"Tell me exactly what you want, Erin," he said. "Don't set me up to be the *, because it's not fair. If you want me to be rough, I'll be rough."

That did it. His arrogant, self-righteous tone infuriated her. She shoved at him. "Oh, don't do me any goddamn favors!"

He seized her wrists and wrenched them up over her head. "OK. I think I've nailed the vibe you want tonight, sweetheart. No favors. That can be arranged." He let out his breath in a sharp sigh when he slid his fingers between her legs and found her wet. "God, look at you. You are such a wild thing, Erin Riggs. You just can't wait, can you?"

"No!" she snapped. "So hurry."

He was still laughing when he kissed her, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth. She could barely move. She was stretched out, every muscle straining beneath his weight, arms yanked up high.

He took himself in hand, pressed himself against her, and slid just the tip of himself inside her. He teased her with tiny, teasing thrusts, bathing himself with her slick moisture, and then drove inside her. She clenched around him with a muffled cry. He let her move just enough to find her body's answer to his sensual invasion, the tight, clinging demands of her secret flesh upon his thick shaft.

Finally he gave her what she wanted, grinding his hips against her. Each deep, heavy thrust pushed her closer to the resolution of the enigma burning in her mind. She needed all his strength for ballast to drive her toward the answer to all this aching, screaming tension. She struggled closer, straining up, almost there—

"No."

Her eyes popped open. He shifted, and lifted the pressure away from where she so desperately needed it. She clenched her legs around him to draw him deeper. "Connor, I need this! What—"

"No favors."

She almost screamed with rage. "Are you punishing me?"

"No favors, Erin. You'll come when I let you come. Not before."

"Why are you doing this?" She thrashed wildly beneath him.

He subdued her effortlessly. "Because I can."

"I hate you," she hissed. "You evil, controlling bastard. This isn't fair. I give you an inch and you take a mile. Every damn time."

He shook his head. "No. Give me an inch, and I take everything."

There was absolutely nothing she could do. She was spread so helplessly open beneath him that there was no way to clench herself around him and work herself to climax of her own volition. She was at his mercy.

Three more times, he brought her to the brink and then drew back. When he began again the fourth time, she was too exhausted to thrash and writhe. She just squeezed her eyes shut and trembled. He leaned down and kissed her. "Beg me," he said.

"Forget it," she murmured. "Bastard. I'd rather die."

"Just beg me, and I'll give it to you," he coaxed. "It's worth it."

She opened her eyes, stared into the pure, hypnotic green depths of his eyes, and he pulled her in. "Please," she whispered.

He released her arms and surged against her so deep and strong it almost hurt. But the pain was just a glowing delineation around a deeper, hotter pleasure that grew and swelled until it broke, sending all the tension he had wrought with such cruel skill crashing down on her.