Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(67)
His eyes eat me up. He growls, “Fuck yes I am.”
“I meant for dinner.”
He pulls the tie over his head and drops it to the floor. “No. Say it.”
My pulse goes haywire. He’s in bossy mode. Wild, impatient mode. With a bushy tail and bared fangs, his fur bristling.
I nervously moisten my lips. Then I wipe my sweating palms on the front of my jeans. “Um…”
He shrugs out of his suit coat, letting it fall to the floor, then swiftly unbuttons his dress shirt, pulling the tucked ends from the waist of his slacks. The entire time, he stares at me, unblinking.
“I, um…”
He unbuckles his belt. My breasts feel heavy, and my nipples start to ache. It suddenly becomes hard to breathe.
“Liam.”
He whips the belt through the loopholes. It makes a loud zizz that nearly makes me gasp.
His voice is a patient drawl, unlike his eyes, which are on fire. “Aye, lass?”
I know he won’t call me baby until we’re in bed. He only ever calls me that in bed.
“Will you…will you please…”
He makes a loop of the belt in his fists and snaps it.
I jump, blurting breathlessly, “Will you please make love to me.”
It wasn’t a question, but he doesn’t care. Striding around the coffee table, he commands, “Get the bag.” I barely have enough time to comply before he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.
Holy shit. He just threw me over his shoulder.
I cling onto the bag with one hand and his shirt with the other, swaying upside down as he carries me into the bedroom, one big hand splayed over the backs of my thighs. I should probably feel ridiculous being carried this way, but instead I’m wide-eyed and thrilled, my heart banging like a drum.
The first time, we fucked.
The second time, we had sex.
This time, we make love, and that makes it so much better and so much worse.
And far, far more dangerous.
He lowers me to the bed, lowers himself on top of me, and kisses me deeply, his tongue searching my mouth and his hands dug into my hair. I’ve got my arms around his broad shoulders. My legs are bent on either side of his waist. I’m clutching the little brown bag like my life depends on it.
He rears up to his knees and whips off his shirt. I lie on the bed staring up at him, feeling electrified.
“Say it again.” His voice is thick with desire.
I whisper, “Please make love to me.”
“Put your arms over your head.”
I comply instantly. He pulls off my jeans and panties, then pushes my T-shirt up over my breasts to my armpits so it’s crumpled up under my chin. The closure on my bra is on the front. He flicks it open, then takes my breasts in his hands and feasts on them.
He sucks hard on a taut nipple, making me arch and moan, then moves to the other one and does the same. He goes back and forth, taking his time, enjoying himself, while I rock my hips into his, whimpering.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Your mouth.”
He gently bites down on a nipple. “You have my mouth, baby.”
“No—down there.”
He whispers teasingly, “On your toes?” and bites down harder.
My moan of pleasure is garbled. “Between my legs. Please.”
“You like my mouth on your pussy?”
I’m delirious. His voice is so hot and dark, it’s making me crazed. I start to babble. “Yes, please, I love it, I want it, please hurry, I want it now.”
A rumble passes through his chest, an animal’s territorial warning.
He slides down my body, gently biting my belly and hips as he goes. He bites one thigh, then noses down the seam where my thigh meets my sex, inhaling deeply with a sound of masculine need.
My face goes scarlet. I bite my lip, helplessly rocking my hips.
He opens me with his thumbs and presses the gentlest kiss to my throbbing clit.
I tear a hole in the brown paper bag with my fingernails.
“Look at this pretty pussy,” he whispers, gently pinching my folds. He slides a finger inside me. “Ah, and you’re soaked. Fucking soaked.”
When he sucks on my clit, I sob, jerking.
He gently works his finger in and out while he licks me, reaching up with his other hand to fondle my breasts. I forget the bag and his instruction to keep my arms overhead and sink trembling fingers into his hair.
When I moan, long and low, he murmurs, “God, I love that sound. Almost as much as when you scream my name when you come.”
I say breathlessly, “Please make me come. God yes please, Liam, I need to come.”
“You know I will, baby. You know I’ll take care of you.”
He slides another thick finger inside me, then reapplies his mouth to my clit and sucks.
Panting, I rock my hips faster and faster. My skin is on fire. The room is too hot, too close.
Liam brings me right to the edge of orgasm, but before I fall over, he stops.
He stands, takes off the rest of his clothes, then commands, “Wrap me up.”
Half delirious, I fumble around for the paper bag. Inside is a box of condoms that I tear open. The small foil package I rip open with my teeth. Then I scooch to the edge of the bed and, with shaking fingers, roll the condom down the length of Liam’s rigid cock.