Fight with Me
Page 68

 Kristen Proby

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
“Do you know what you do to me?” he asks, his voice low and rough, his eyes narrowed and his hands in fists at his sides.
“What?” I ask breathlessly.
“You make me want things I’ve never wanted before. You make me want you. You make me fucking hard.”
My heels hit the bottom step and I climb the stairs slowly, backward, unable to stop looking at him. I get about five steps up when he mutters, “Stop.”
He unbuttons his shirt as he climbs the steps below me and peels it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He reaches the fourth step and is eye level with me. I’m gripping the handrail for balance, mesmerized by his beautiful gray eyes. He’s still not touching me, yet my skin is humming in anticipation.
“Touch me,” I whisper.
He leans in and brushes his lips across mine, lightly, and pulls back again, watching me.
“Please touch me,” I whisper again.
His eyes travel from my hair, over my face, down my dress to my shoes and back up again. “Sit on the stairs,” he commands.
I frown, and he narrows his eyes. “Sit.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
I lower myself to the stairs and look up into his face, wondering what the fuck he’s going to do next. He unbuckles his belt and opens his slacks, and just when I think he’s going to free his cock so I can go to work on it, he kneels in front of me.
I feel my eyes widen and roam over this angry, beautiful man. He’s kneeling before me, still not touching me.
“Lean back on your elbows,” he whispers, and I comply.
“Pull your skirt up around your hips.” Again, I comply, and I feel my breathing quicken. I feel completely exposed, because I am, from the waist down. I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t wearing underwear.
Nate’s eyes dilate and he sucks in a deep breath. His eyes are narrowed on my pussy, and his hands are flexing in and out of fists, and I know he’s dying to touch me.
“Touch me, babe,” I whisper.
His molten gray eyes find mine as he reaches up and tucks a stray curl of hair behind my ear, sending shivers down me.
“You are so beautiful, Julianne.”
“Touch. Me.” I whisper again and he clenches his eyes closed for a heartbeat and looks back down my body again, raking me with his gaze.
“Nate.” I get his attention with the strength of my voice. “You won’t hurt me, my love.”
He growls and plants his fists on the stairs at my hips and pushes himself up to kiss me, slipping his tongue in my mouth, tangling and sliding along mine. This kiss is urgent and needy. I wrap his hair in my fingers to hold him to me, but he backs away, panting, eyes on fire and says, “Elbows on the stairs.”
“Oh.”
Finally – FINALLY! – he slides his large hands up the outside of my thighs to my hips and pulls me forward to the edge of the step and lowers his head. He blows on my center, raising my skin in goose bumps. He spreads my thighs wide, spreading my labia in the process and licks me from my anus to my clit and back down again.
“Holy fuck!” My head falls back as my hips come up off the stairs. Nate holds my hips firmly, presses his face into my pussy and kisses me, plunging his soft, talented tongue inside me, swirling around and around, and presses his nose against my clit.
Electricity is shooting through my core, up my spine, and out my limbs. I look down at him and his hot gray gaze is pinned on my face, alive with lust.
“Oh God, babe, I’m gonna…” I can’t finish the sentence. He moves that tongue up along my lips to press on my clit and roughly pushes two fingers inside me, pressing down, and I come apart, my muscles pulsing and milking his fingers, my clit throbbing against his tongue.
He kisses and nips at the inside of my thighs and my pubis, and then pulls his fingers out of me and sticks them in his mouth, sucking my sweetness off of them.
“You’re delicious,” he whispers. He reaches up and loosens my halter straps, letting the bodice fall around my waist, exposing my naked breasts. “Jesus.”
Nate leans in and circles one nipple with his nose. My breathing is still erratic from the mind-blowing orgasm he just gave me, and that nose on my nipple sends fire straight to my core and I moan his name.
He wraps his lips around the tight bud, and worries the other with his fingers. I reach up with one hand and tangle my fingers in his hair, and he backs up and glares at me.
“Elbows on the stairs,” he repeats.
“No, I want to touch you.”
“I’ll restrain you if I have to. Elbows on the stairs.”
Fuck.
I comply, completely turned on by his need to control me. To control this.
His mouth covers the other breast, and he sets about making me crazy again, writhing beneath him.
He suddenly pulls back, grips my hips and lifts me, and flips me onto my knees.
“I need you,” he growls, and I hear him push his pants down his hips. “Now.”
He slams into me, hard, and I cry out in surprise and just a little pain. The apa feels larger than usual, pressed against the very core of me.
“Jesus, baby, you’re so wet and tight.” He moves out and in once again, as hard as before, and I moan.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“This is gonna be rough, baby.”
“Good,” I respond.
“Tell me if it’s too much.”
“Just do it, babe. Fuck me.”
He spanks my right ass cheek and grips my hips roughly and begins to pound in and out of me in a fast, desperate rhythm. He spanks me again, twice, and I moan at the pleasure of the sting, loving that he is crazy with lust for me, that I can make him lose himself in me.