If I Were You

Air trickles slowly from my lips. I think he means this as a good thing but the words ‘right now’ don’t sit well. I have no clue why they bother me or why my stomach has knotted up. Right now is all that matters. I’m thinking too much. I don’t want to think. I climb onto his lap and he shifts to sit with his back against the couch. Boldly, I straddle him, my hands on his shoulders.

“I’m here now. What are you going to do with me?”

For several seconds he sits there. He doesn’t touch me. Tension radiates off of him, seeps into me. He doesn’t react and I begin to feel self-conscious for the first time all night.

Suddenly, the fingers of one of his hands curl around my neck and he pulls my mouth near his. “Do you know what happens when you push a Dragon? They burn you alive, baby. You’re playing with fire.”

My fingers curl on his cheek and all self-consciousness is gone, forgotten. “I’m not afraid of whatever you’re talking about. I think you keep warning me away because you’re the one who’s afraid.”

His fingers knot in my hair and I gasp at the unexpected bite of his grip, holding me steady. “Is that all you got?” I demand, shocked at how much I want more. How much I want whatever is beneath his surface. I’m not scared. I’m aroused. I’m ready.

His eyes probe mine, his expression hard, intense. “I thought you were a good little school teacher.”

“You’re corrupting me,” I declare, “and I seem to like it.” I barely issue the challenge before he’s pulling my mouth to his, and he is kissing me with unrestrained, burning passion. I taste the part of him I want to know, the part he’s afraid of, and I burn to know more. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am playing with fire, but I cannot stop myself. Beyond reason, I will push him until he reveals everything.

Chapter Seventeen

I sink into his kiss, moaning at the wicked way his tongue is licking against mine, driving me wild. His palms skim my back and the shirt is lifted, I gladly raise my hands and let him pull it off of me. He’s filled his hands with my br**sts before I can even lower my arms. And Lord help me his mouth is on my nipple, suckling and licking. My hands tunnel into his hair and his gaze lifts to mine. He watches me as he licks a circle around my nipple. I bite my lip from the pleasure and he leans in to lick where my teeth have just worried, melding my na**d br**sts to his chest.

His hand slides behind my neck again. He likes holding me captive. I think he likes it a lot. I think I do, too. “You don’t know what you’re doing with me, Sara,” he growls.

“But I want to,” I whisper and I haven’t meant anything quite so much in a very long time. My hands slide down his sides, his skin hot, over hard, taut muscle.

His mouth claims mine again, full of demands, and… warning? Maybe. Probably. It only makes me hotter, hungrier. I fight the urge to pull his hair. His hands travel my body, possessing me, and oh yes, I want to be possessed by this man.

“Lean back,” he orders, his hand on my waist, pressing me backwards until my hands are on the table behind me.

My br**sts are high, thrust into the air, and his eyes are ravenous as they take me in. I gasp as he slides his fingers between my thighs, stroking me.

“So wet.” There is a rasp to his voice, a husky desire. “So hot.” He’s exploring me, teasing me, and oh yes, his finger slides inside me and I can barely breathe. This isn’t like before when I couldn’t see him. He’s staring at me, and I see the man, the passion, the glint of sexual prowess in his eyes that tells me I am out of my league, but I don’t want to be.

He leans forward and scrapes my nipple with his teeth and I realize this is more like before than I’d realized. I am once again captive. I cannot reach for him or I’ll fall. He slides another finger inside me and suckles my ni**les to the point of near pain, erotic, wonderful pain. “Chris,” I pant, and I don’t know what I am asking.

“Do you remember when I said I was going to lick you all over, Sara?” he asks, nibbling a path between my br**sts, leaving my wet, aching ni**les throbbing with the need for his mouth.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes.”

He flicks my cl*t with his thumb, spreads the wetness over my ultra-sensitive flesh. “You want me to lick you here?” he asks, one hand sliding down to my stomach, the other working my body, pumping in and out of me.

My lashes flutter and I let my head fall back. “Look at me, Sara,” he demands, and there is a sharpness to the words that snaps my head up.

“Do you want me to lick you here?”

I’m too close. The edge of orgasm is on me. “Yes, but…I don’t…think I can take it. Not now.” I gasp as his fingers are suddenly gone and he’s lifting me. Before I can begin to clear the cobwebs I am on the couch and my legs are over his shoulders. His mouth closes down on me and warm pressure overtakes me. There is only sensation after sensation and I am already lost, spinning into orgasm. I try to stop myself but it’s impossible. This man, this glorious sexy, dark, intense man has his mouth on me in the most intimate of ways after telling me he was going to lick me all over. I cannot breathe and my entire body goes stiff before I jerk from the intensity of my body clenching. His fingers slide inside me, answering the need of my body, filling me.

A chill rushes over my body the instant I can catch my breath, cooling the fire on my skin. Chris follows it, enclosing me with his big body, and then he is kissing me. I can taste myself on him, salty and sweet, and I know this is his intent. And I know I’m not pushing him at all. I’m only going where he lets me. As if validating my thoughts, he moves, then is gone, leaving me wanting more. Controlling everything, controlling me.