Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(48)

I decide to check it out and see where it takes us.

“What are you doing?” she asks. I can hear the fear and irritation in her voice. Again, I ignore her, and I test the door handle to find it unlocked. I peer inside to find a supply closet and I tug Violet in after me, shutting the door so we’re shrouded in complete darkness.

I can’t see her, but I can feel her. Smell her. I press her back against the door, rubbing against her since there’s not much room. She grips my shoulders at the same moment I grab her head with both hands to keep her still. “What do you think I’m doing?” I murmur just before I kiss her.

She sags against the door, sags against me, and I let one of my hands fall to her side, squeezing her hip with firm fingers. A little moan sounds from her, vibrates through me, and I deepen the kiss, my tongue sweeping her mouth, searching, circling hers. The dress she’s wearing is sexy as f*ck, giving me easy access. I tug aside the front of it, pushing one wide strap off her shoulder and baring her breast.

It’s so damn dark and I wish I could see her, but I can’t. Her lush flesh fills my palm and I tease her nipple with my index finger, circling it again and again, feeling the bit of flesh tighten further with my attention. “You want me. Don’t deny it,” I murmur, and she doesn’t protest.

She whispers my name against my lips as I pull away from her, bending over her chest so I can draw her nipple into my mouth. I feel frantic, on edge, the need to touch her, please her, completely taking over me. I savor the taste of her sweet, hard flesh, sucking deep. I slip my hand beneath the other side of her dress, my fingers covering her breast. I pinch her nipple, twist it the slightest bit so she cries out, and I want to laugh. Want to shout in triumph because I know this girl … this prim, perfect girl, likes it when I’m a little rough.

And the poor thing has no idea what I’m capable of.

I skim my hand down her side, along the dip of her waist, the gentle curve of her hip. The fabric of her dress is smooth and soft, almost as soft as her skin, and my fingers get lost in the folds of her skirt before I shove my hand beneath it. I lift the fabric up to skim my hand along the outside of her thigh and bare hip, finding that she’s not wearing any panties, just like I asked her.

“Fuck,” I choke out as I caress her hip bone, then slide my hand down. Farther …

“I did as you asked,” she murmurs as she shifts beneath my hand, spreading her legs.

Giving me better access.

So I take it. I cup her between her thighs, feel the heat of her scald my palm. She thrusts against my hand as I draw it up, teasing the very seam of her with my index finger, dipping in and lightly caressing her hot, wet folds. She’s on fire for me, her moans growing louder with my every touch, and I kiss her to shut her up, loving how noisy she is. Dying to get her alone so she can be as loud as she wants for me and no one can hear us.

She lifts her leg and wraps it around my hip, opening herself up to me even more. I break our kiss and thrust my finger deep inside her *, f*ck her with one finger, then two, and she’s grinding against my hand, murmuring nonsensical words. I wish I could see her, stare into those pretty eyes, watch her face as I make her come apart.

Hell. I feel like I could come apart. With her like this, I feel as if I could spiral out of control at any moment. All I want is her. All I can think about is f*cking her. Making her mine. Owning her.

Jesus. I need to get a grip.

She’s clutching at me, her hands having slid to my chest, fingers grasping at my shirt. The girl seems hell-bent on ruining my clothes. I can feel her nails scratching against my skin, the desperate seeking of her orgasm obvious. She’s close. So damn close, and I just need to push her over that edge.

I decide to toy with her instead.

“You want me to stop?” My fingers still within her body and she gasps, her breaths coming fast, the sound harsh in the otherwise quiet of the closet.

“N-no.” She reaches for my face, her fingers tentative on my jaw before they find my cheek, and then her lips are seeking mine. I let her take over, my fingers still inside her * as she kisses me desperately, her tongue licking, her hips moving against my hand as I slowly start to push my finger inside her welcoming heat once more. “Please,” she whispers, her voice shaky. “I need it.”

“You need it or do you need me?” I ask, my voice harsh as I still my fingers again. A whimper escapes her as she rolls her hips just as I withdraw my hand from her body and reach up, touching her lips. “Tell me, Violet.”

Her hot breath bathes my damp fingers as she parts her lips and starts to speak haltingly. “I-I need you.”

“Open your mouth. Taste yourself,” I tell her and she does, sucking my fingers, her lips tight, her tongue swirling. My cock is rock hard, knowing I have sweet little Violet Fowler licking at my fingers after I had them buried inside her.

She’s sexy as hell. After all the talk I’ve heard about her being an ice queen, uptight, a horrible lay, I’m thinking they were wrong.

Or she was just with the wrong man, which doesn’t surprise me.

“Say my name, Violet,” I urge her as I withdraw my fingers from her mouth.

“Ryder,” she whispers.

“Ask me to make you come,” I demand.

“Make me come,” she says breathlessly. “Please?”

Hearing her say my name, making her beg, and not being able to see her heightens the vulnerability, the need in her trembling voice. I touch her, slide my fingers back inside her body and brush my thumb against her clit, her sharp gasp urging me on, making me touch her there again. And again. “You like that?”