His other hand looped around my spine, jerking me from the wall, shoving his fingers down the back of my skirt. He fingered the lace of my G-string and the top of my ass, rocking his erection into my belly.

I need air. I need sanity.

But he scooped me into his arms, letting my legs dangle between his as he stalked toward his bed and threw me down, tossing the black bag onto the floor.

His face contorted with lust. “We’ll use toys another time. Tonight, I just need you.” Grabbing my jacket, he forced me to wriggle free as he removed my arms from the sleeves.

The minute I lay there in my blouse and skirt, he smirked. “I hope you’re not too attached to these.”

With a furious yank, he ripped my blouse apart. The tiny seashell buttons pinged into all corners of his room while cool air kissed my naked belly, revealing my black lace bra.

He groaned, bending over me to press a kiss on the swell of my breast.

Without thinking, I held his head to my chest, breathing hard, panting quick, running my hands through his hair with affection I didn’t necessarily feel.

He reared back, his gaze narrowed and full of rage.

We stared at each other, silently waging, trying to figure out how lines had blurred already. Pulling back to stand by the edge of the bed, Penn left me speechless, breathless, wondering what the hell was happening, and just who he was beneath the surface.

His hands landed on his belt, yanking the leather free and ripping it from the loops.

My skin was needy and demanding. I wanted him close. I wanted him on me. Screw the tiny voice of fear that my first time would hurt.

“Take off your clothes,” he growled thickly, his voice no longer entirely human as he shoved his jeans down his legs and stepped out of them.

Sitting up on the bed, I obeyed, shrugging out of my damaged top and reaching behind to unhook and unzip my skirt. The moment it unfastened, I lay back down, shimmying from the material until he grabbed the ends and yanked it the rest of the way.

My garter belt glittered in the low lamps by the window and door. My pantyhose reminded me everyone else knew me as the queen of Belle Elle, yet Penn was the only one to tear me down until I was naked and begging for a single touch.

His gaze latched between my legs where my black G-string matched my bra. He bit his lip, then grabbed my ankles, yanked me down the bed, and pressed himself on top of me. His fist slammed into the mattress with all the frustration and rage he wouldn’t admit, making my heart hammer and blood race.

“Fuck, I want to be inside you.”

I surrendered to his feral kiss, letting him direct and guide me. His fingers plucked at my garters, undoing my pantyhose until they hung undone around my thighs. He rocked his cock against me—the only things separating us were two pieces of cotton.

Terror tried to interrupt my pleasure—things like birth control and protection and the fact I should tell him it was my first time.

But embarrassment kept my lips shut.

Penn was experienced. He couldn’t hide that fact with the way he attacked my mouth and body with confidence born of expertise.

If he’d noticed I was a follower in this and no longer the leader I’d been groomed to be, he didn’t care or mention it. I just hoped he’d take charge of the protection issue, and if he entered me too fast, then I would say something but not before.

I clutched at his black top, needing it off. Needing skin on skin.

He listened, tearing his mouth away to reach over his head and pull the second to last piece of clothing off.

My hands flew up of their own accord. I traced his abs and up to his chest. He didn’t try to stop me and the luxury, the privilege of touching him filled my blood with heated desire.

Staying braced on one arm over me, his fingers looped around my panties and pulled them down. My hand latched onto the other side, keeping it high, protecting my modesty. I didn’t know why, but sudden shyness attacked me.

He gritted his teeth. “Let go.”

I bit my lip, refusing silently.

“Elle.” His growl sliced through my unwillingness.

Closing my eyes briefly, I let go and allowed him to drag the lace down my legs. He slipped them off my ankles and tossed them over his shoulder. Clamping a powerful hand on my inner thigh, he spread my legs. “So fucking beautiful.”

I trembled as his stroked upward, running his fingertips along my wetness. “Christ, Elle.”

My mouth opened as he pressed a finger slowly inside me.

My breasts ached, and I reached behind me to undo the confines of my bra. He grimaced with agonizing need as I revealed the final part of me. He swallowed hard as my body welcomed his finger, my hips rocking upward to meet him.

“Touch me,” he commanded. His finger hooked inside me, dragging a gasp through my lungs. I reached forward blindly, unsure what to do and how hard to grasp.

He tipped forward, giving me access to his boxer-briefs.

With an out of control heartbeat, I pulled aside the tight cotton and inserted my hand into the warm depths.

He shuddered as my fingers latched around him.

“Jesus.” He bowed as I squeezed hard, unsure if soft or violent was his undoing.

I copied the pressure he used on me—not being gentle, not giving him time to adjust to being touched.

His finger speared upward, pressing against the sensitive spot inside that turned everything into liquid gold. Grunting a little as I fisted him deeper, he inserted another finger.

The stretch. The burn. His fingernail scraped a little as he didn’t give me time to adjust.

I matched his punishment with my own, digging my nails into his shaft, pumping him in the same way he thrust into me.