Taming Lily (The Fowler Sisters #3)(50)

I glance at him over my shoulder to see the tips of his fingers disappear in his mouth as he sucks them and a shuddery sigh moves through me, making my entire body sway. He’s taken off his sunglasses, letting me see that handsome face clearly, those beautiful eyes full of heat and want.

All aimed directly at me.

“You want me to f*ck you, don’t you?” he asks.

Pressing my lips together, I nod, scared to say anything for fear I’ll sound like a babbling idiot. Unsure that I’ll even be able to put together words. Or worse, that I’ll say something I’ll regret. I feel unhinged, raw and painfully aroused, my skin so tight I’m afraid I might shatter if he so much as touches me.

And I definitely want him to touch me. I’m dying for it.

“From behind?” He runs a hand over my butt, his fingers sliding perilously close to my *. I angle toward him, ready for those fingers to go exactly where I need them, but he’s teasing me, his hand moving away.

“Please,” I beg, not recognizing my own voice. What’s come over me? I don’t even know myself in this moment. My body has been on fire since our stupid argument. I crave him, want him to do everything he did to me yesterday and the night before, plus more. Anything. I’m up for anything he wants. He stuck his fingers in my ass and that was something I swore I would never let any man do to me, and now I’m this close to begging Max to do it again.

He chuckles. Doesn’t seem to be affected by me whatsoever, which I find infuriating. But I’m too aroused to be anything else, let alone angry. Such a wasted energy. “However you can get me, princess?”

“Yes. Just …” I choke on my own words when he traces my * with his fingertips, his touch feather light. “Please. Fuck me.”

“Such a shame that you’re so impatient. Don’t you want to stretch this out, baby?” He says this conversationally, as if we’re talking about the weather. “Maybe I could just get you off first.”

Oh, God, no. I want his cock. I want to feel him stretch me, fill me. I want to get lost in the rhythm of our bodies, the drag of his cock deep inside me, thrusting again and again …

I want the closeness. The skin-to-skin contact, his eyes staring into mine. I want that to take home with me so I never, ever forget him.

“Come here.” He grabs hold of my hips and pulls me toward him. I go willingly, gasping when he flips me around as if I weigh nothing and settles my naked body in his lap, my legs automatically wrapping around his hips. “Lie back.”

I stretch back along the lounger, watching him from beneath heavy lids as I spread my legs wide, straddling either side of the chair. He moves away from me, his gaze locked on the spot between my thighs, parting his lips as he sucks in a harsh breath. My entire body is trembling, my exhales are coming in short bursts, and I curl my toes against the ground, needing release.

“You look like you’re dying for it, baby. Dying for me.”

I am. Oh God, I completely am. I’m reluctant to admit that I just don’t want to get off. I want him. “If you won’t touch me, I will,” I threaten.

His eyes darken and his jaw goes tight. He doesn’t like it when I try to wrestle control from him. Max much prefers to be in control.

So did I. Always with Max, I’ve let him take over. I’m tempted to see what he’ll do if I try and wrestle the control away from him.

“Do that and you’re in trouble,” he murmurs, his gaze, his voice, full of dark promise.

I feel like defying him. I want to know what he’ll do to me. What he’ll do for me. What sort of trouble does he mean? Nothing scares me. Nothing ever has. So his threats are meaningless.

Cupping my breasts with both hands, my gaze remains locked on his as I brush my nipples with my thumbs. “What kind of trouble are you talking about?”

His gaze tracks my every move. “The kind you should be afraid of.”

“You don’t scare me,” I taunt. Playing with my nipples only seems to hurt, so I release my grip on my breasts, let one hand trail down my quivering stomach. Everything I’m doing, feeling, wanting, centers right in the spot between my legs. My * aches. My clit pulses. And when I run my fingers over my slit, cupping myself, I want to scream out loud because it feels so good.

But I don’t. I remain quiet. In control. The heat of Max’s eyes on me sets me on fire, makes me burn, but I don’t stop. Not even when I see the anger flare deeper in his gaze, not when I note the way his hands clench into fists. He’s trying his best to remain in control, too, but he struggles.

Looks like I’m winning.

I tease my clit, search my folds, and I can hear how wet I am. Bringing my fingers to my mouth, I suck them, lick them, then settle them back between my legs, stroking in earnest now.

“Jesus,” I hear Max mutter and I smile, whimpering when I stroke against my swollen clit extra hard. My flesh is tingling, I’m already so close to coming, and it’s because Max is watching me. The orgasm hovers, tantalizing me right on the horizon’s edge, and I reach for it, closing my eyes, straining my hips, throwing back my head …

Strong fingers clamp around my wrist, stopping my ministrations dead in their tracks. “No f*cking way are you going to come like that.”

My eyes fly open and I glare at Max, my hand useless, wiggling directly over my body as he holds my wrist tight. “Let go.”