Anarchy Found (SuperAlpha, #1)(31)

He lets go of my hands, twirls me around again, and then pushes me up against the cold stone pedestal, repositioning his hands on either side of my head and boxing me in. I can smell the leather from his gloves. I can feel the beat of his heart as he presses his chest against mine. I can hear the soft in-and-out breath of air as he maintains control.

I could get away right now if I wanted. I could knee him in the balls, grab his head and bang it down on my knee, and run back into the maze, screaming for help.

The problem is, I stay right where he puts me.

His hand glides down the curve of my neck and then he plays with a wisp of hair that fell down. “Why are you doing this?” I ask.

“I didn’t f*ck you last weekend, but I wanted to. I really, really wanted to.”

I push him back with a two-handed shove to his chest and slap his face. Hard. The crack of my hand against his cheek echoes, and a girl laughs from somewhere in the maze. “Don’t talk to me that way, *.”

He just smiles, even as a red handprint forms on his face. “Never say never.”

“And if you call me gun girl one more time—”

“You’ll what?” he challenges, staring down into my eyes with such a glare, I have to look away.

“Just tell me what you want,” I say. My heart is beating so fast now.

“I just did,” he whispers, leaning down into my neck and tickling me with his breath as his words travel across my skin. “I want to f*ck you. And I want to do it right now. Before we go any further. Before I tell you anything else. Before you have a chance to change your mind.”

“You are some piece of work,” I say, dragging my eyes back to meet his. His gaze is so intense, it makes me want to hide. “You’re crazy if you think I’m even considering it.”

“You’re right. You’re not considering it. You’ve already agreed or you’d be out of here. You’d be running away as fast as your pretty feet could take you. You’d be screaming for those people in the maze to help you. You’d be gone, Molly Masters.”

He tugs the skirts of my dress up my thigh.

I swallow hard again, and a moan comes out of my mouth.

“Give in tonight, Molly. And I’ll give in tomorrow.”

“What’s that mean? Why do you have to talk in riddles? Just tell me what the f*ck is going on.” My words come out as a hoarse whisper and I look at the ground. And I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t turning me on. This alpha shit. I should hate it. I should rail against it. Slap him again and walk off. Walk straight the f*ck out of here with my head up.

But I can’t say that’s how I feel, because I don’t.

“Hold your skirts up and find out.”

I force myself to look up. His eyes are not bright with mischief. They are dark, and cold, and commanding. And his lips aren’t curled up in some playful smile. They are straight, slightly parted. And I can see his tongue doing a little dance inside his mouth, like he’s thinking very hard about something. His hand leaves the wall and he drops the soft fabric of my silk skirts so he can place both leather-clad palms on my cheeks. Gently. And this is the only gentle thing about him right now. Because he scares the f*ck out of me.

“Do it,” he says, his mouth finding mine. His lips pressing into an unbreakable kiss. His hands caressing my skin. His body moving forward, his knee taking position between my legs. “Lift those skirts, Molly,” he says, his words tumbling against my tongue. “Let me slip my hand between your legs and play a little. Let’s have a good time tonight and forget that it’s all gonna come crashing down tomorrow.”

“I don’t—”

“Please,” he says. The word is so soft. So filled with longing, and regret, and emotion. It reminds me of that friend of his while we were dancing. His plea makes me want to obey. Against my will, I try to convince myself. But it’s a lie. There is something on the tip of my tongue. Like my brain has been keeping secrets and they’re about to explode out of me. So I reach down, grab a fistful of silk tulle and I give him what he needs.

Permission.

His mouth is suddenly hungry and crushing. His tongue dances inside me. One hand leaves my face and goes to his belt and I hike my skirts up even more, exposing the bare skin of my leg. The brisk air flows upward, making my * tingle with anticipation. His belt buckle drops away, and he tugs on his zipper just before he presses his hard cock against my hip.

I push forward, making him groan with the pressure against his hard-on. “Do it, then,” I whisper. “Just do it. Before someone comes.” The voices of other couples in the maze are louder, but there’s no way for me to tell how close they are to finding the center. Or finding me here, doing this with him.

He grabs my skirts, the sudden force enough to make me gasp with surprise, and then he reaches between my legs and pulls my panties aside, just enough to slip a gloved finger inside me. “Open your legs wider, Molly.”

Just hearing his gruff voice say my name sends my mind spinning. Why? Why is he making me feel this way?

But that thought disappears as soon as the pressure inside me turns to pleasure. I obey his last command like I’m that computer thing in his cave. Forced to do his bidding. At his beck and call and under his spell.

Just as that thought crosses my mind, his cock—full, and hard, and throbbing just like my *—replaces his finger and I moan. Loudly. “Oh, God.”