Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(72)

“I’m only insane for you.” The force of his lips knocking into mine sent me backwards until my bare back was pushed up against the balcony’s wood. He pulled my hands behind my back and gently tied my wrists together with the belt, then strapped them to the wood behind me.

“Okay?”

Okay? I was fan-f*cking-tastic. Wet. But fantastic. “Yes,” I breathed. It was crazy. He had me tied to the balcony in the pouring rain. But seeing how excitable he was at the sight of me bound made me forget I was cold and soaking.

The rain trickled down my face, spotting onto my breasts, and staring at Parks’s soaking-wet hair before he swiped it out of his face and made his way to me sent my senses delirious.


Parks cupped my breasts in his palms, kneading them roughly while slicing his tongue powerfully against mine. After picking one of my thighs up to wrap it around his waist, he quickly drove into me with one fierce thrust.

“Jesus,” I wailed, tilting my head to the sky and feeling the rain dropping onto my face. My wrists were chaffing against the wood. It almost burnt, but his length inside my body was too heavenly to think about anything else.

I tried to tilt my hips, but it was no use. My body was his to do with as he willed, and when he was f*cking me, it was all in his control.

“Oh, baby.” Parks pinned me against the balcony and held my leg around him. He groped my arse and pulled my body into his thrusting pelvis as he nuzzled his head into my neck, groaning, cursing.

Drive after drive started to heat up my cold, dripping body, and I just wished I could touch him. The way I was restrained made his masculine pride surge, though. It told him he was in control. He had the power. Even though, throughout sex, he always did. Inevitably.

The problem was, did I always want him to be in control? He held it so well. It was going to take a mighty fine sledgehammer to smash through his walls. But I thought it would take a sledgehammer to break through mine, yet he was bulldozing through them incredibly. And I was letting him.

Within minutes, he had my body stimulated to another level. A level of lost. Getting lost in a magnificent buildup of arousal. Lost in a mindless race to the finish line. Lost in him.

“Wade,” my voice cried out his name. I was getting ready to release the sudden climax that had presented itself deep within my core. And Jesus, did it come.

“Oh yes,” I cried out. Parks held my hips, helping me ride it out. I was rubbing my hands against the belt, frustrated that I couldn’t move.

I felt lifeless, like the weight of my body was too much for my legs to carry, but Parks drove through my moans, plunging deeper, faster, until he was galloping through his own joyride of lust.

He held me close and tight as his warm liquids filled me, cursing into the side of my neck until he was completely wrung out and tender.

My body fell lax when he untied my wrists, and he picked me up like I was a child and sauntered back inside. The warmth that instantly hit us when we re-entered the boathouse was welcome.

The bathroom was our first destination. Parks pulled one of the giant, white towels from the towel rack and wrapped me up like a baby, with only my face showing.

“What are you doing?” I chuckled.

He bent down and kissed the tip of my nose. “Getting you warm, Princess.”

I held the towel around myself as he picked up his own and dried his stunning body quickly, shimmying his towel from head to toe.

“We’ll shower in the morning. Come on. Let me take you to bed.”

I swivelled and headed into the bedroom with Parks leading the way. The room was warm with wooden plank flooring and antique furniture, all in greens, burnt oranges, and reds. The huge bedframe was made out of wood with antlers of some sort propped just above. The bedsheets were red tartan, and the bed also had a faux fur throw and about twenty cushions decorating it.

I left Parks to set up his iPod station after I’d dried myself and jumped into bed. I was anxiously waiting to hear what song he’d choose because I was learning that every one he picked had a meaning.

It was Labrinth’s “Beneath Your Beautiful.” Perfect.

Parks saw me wrapped up in the sheets, jumped into bed, and pressed my body down into the mattress. My giggle pleased him immensely. I hadn’t a clue why.

“Where did that come from?” I asked, basking in the feel of the tip of his nose running along my jaw.

“The outside part? Or tackling you to the bed?”

I writhed under him. “The outside part.”

A shrug of his shoulder made him look casual and cool. “It entered my head. And it was a chance to get you all sexy and wet.”

“I thought I was always sexy and wet.” I smirked.

“Oh you are, Princess. Sexy, wet, and so goddamn perfect.” He caught me rolling my eyes and was quick to inject me with a scold. “Don’t.”

“What?” I gaped.

“Don’t ever doubt your beauty.”

“I just don’t understand why you think I’m perfect.”

“Because what I see lying right beneath me with that smile that lights up my life when it’s splashed across your face, is my perfect.”

My cheeks burned when he kissed just behind my ear. “Maybe your perfect is wrong.”

“Shut up, Evelyn. I see your beauty. Flaws and all.”

I wriggled slightly under his moving tongue. “You like my flaws?” This man was beyond my belief. He liked everything about me, and nobody ever liked everything about me.