Angel in Scarlet (Bound and Determined #4)(31)

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, although she was not sure she could. Her whole body was burning now with need. She was filled with excitement, with anticipation. More. More. More.

“No.” Was that a growl? “No.” Now, that was a command.

Her body only tightened more. She spread her legs apart, seeking ease, and then brought them back close, rubbing her thighs together. There was something happening. Or at least almost happening.

She was nothing but anticipation. She was so close to some great discovery, and yet she could not reach it. She ached. She pulled harder at her nipples, the sharp spike of pain stabbing straight down to her groin. That was it. That was it. Only, no, it wasn’t.

The ache grew. The need grew.

She could feel the sheen of perspiration upon her forehead, feel the growing dampness between her thighs.

She dug her nails into her tender flesh. Again she felt it coming, felt it happening.

But, no, it was not enough. Something was missing.

She concentrated harder on Colton, tried to blend his desire with her own. He was almost there again. She could see it on his face.

She rubbed her nipples hard between finger and thumb, the intensity shooting through her. Now. Now. Now.

“Help me,” she moaned. “I need this. I need it now. Help.”

“Lie back upon the bed. Bring your legs up, your knees up. Yes, just like that.”

The change in position gave her ease, but only for the barest of seconds. “That doesn’t help.”

“Pull up your skirts.”

What? How could she? And then, unable to control herself, she did, yanking them up to her waist, revealing those parts to him that nobody had ever seen. The cool air felt wonderful. She let her legs fall wide, unmindful of what he could see, uncaring of the embarrassing moisture spread upon her thighs. All that mattered was the coolness of the air. But then that was not enough. The heat still grew. The ache still twisted.

“More,” she begged, her fingers moving back to her breasts.

“You are so beautiful, so pink and puffy. So ready. And so, so wet. I long to bury myself in you.”

“Will that help?”

A harsh laugh. “Perhaps, but not now.”

“Please.” She was begging now.

“I wish you could see yourself.” His voice was harsh, and she knew that he was stroking himself hard, again approaching that moment. She heard him rise and stand. He moved toward the bed. “So beautiful, so full of need.”

“Yes. Yes. Now help me.”

“I will, but not in that way. You must make that decision when you are cooler of mind. Now, release one of your breasts.”

She didn’t see that that would do anything. There was relief in not touching, but it didn’t stop the ache—if anything, it increased it.

“Move that hand down between your legs. Touch your curls; pull on them. Gently. Gently. Now harder. Do you feel that? Ahh, yes, you do. God. Fuck. Give me a second. I don’t want to come yet. I want to do this together.”

She didn’t quite understand that, but what did it matter? All that mattered was the need.

“Is there a spot where the feelings are strongest? When you pull hard upon your thatch, is there one spot that longs to be touched, that needs to be touched? Move your hand and touch yourself there, right between your legs, right at the center of it all.”

A thousand bolts of lightning. The sensation was so extreme that she jerked her hand away. “Too much,” she moaned.

“It is the only way. Touch it more gently.”

“I can’t.”

“Do it for me. You promised to please me. This pleases me. Do it. I command you.”

She brought her finger down, held it for a moment, let the sensation calm—at least partly. She could do this. She could. She wished she could see him, see the fire in his eyes, but her position did not allow it. As her finger began to move, the sensations grew again.

“Yes, stroke yourself. Harder. Harder. Faster. Do you feel it coming?”

“Yes,” she gasped. She didn’t quite know what “it” was, but it was definitely coming. Tighter. Needier. Needier.

Her hips rose from the bed, her thighs straining.

“God. Fuck. Fuck. I can’t wait. Pinch yourself now. Now. Do it.”

And she did.

And it came. Her legs pressed up; her thighs pressed in, pushing tight upon her hand.

And it came, fast and heavy.

Her whole body convulsed and soared.

Blackness and light.

The thousand bolts of lightning all hit at once, overwhelming her.

She heard herself cry—and then again. Or was that him?

Another wave struck.

And another.

One more, softer.

Her body sank back upon the bed.





Chapter 9


“Fuck,” he said it again. This time softer.

He’d never come so hard—and so soon after the first.

She was amazing, astonishing. Fuck.

He drew air into his chest, trying to calm his still-speeding heart. He’d never seen anything like her, and he had seen everything.

“Fuck,” he said it aloud once more. He stepped back from the bed. His composure was shattered, and he could not let her see that.

What was it about this girl? And in so many ways she was still a girl, so sweet, so innocent—and yet there had been nothing innocent in what she’d just done, in how she’d given herself over to the passion. Given herself over to his commands.