The Maddest Obsession (Made 2)

His gaze was on me, dry and caustic, but it quickly filled with heat when his attention dropped down my body. My dress was still pulled up indecently, baring the smooth curves of my ass. My skin tingled, and heat bloomed inside me. Letting this man see my naked body was more thrilling than it should have ever been. He was so formal and uptight, anything remotely sexual felt so much dirtier with him.

As soon as he pulled the door closed, shutting us in the back seat of his car, I straddled his hips. He let out a rough breath, watching me lazily, as I ran my hands up his chest, over his neck, into his thick hair, and then down his biceps.

His suit jacket was only in the way, and he let me push it off his shoulders and toss it to the floor. The white dress shirt fit him like a second skin, highlighting his strength, his utter masculinity, and I was infatuated with every inch of him. He tensed as I ran my nails down his arms, wanting to sink my teeth into them.

Grabbing my hips, he pulled me closer to sit me on his erection. The hardness lined up with the damp material of my panties, and a wave of lust blurred my vision. I couldn’t stop myself from rocking against him. Riding him just like I did my pillow while secretly pretending it was him late at night.

My eyes, half-lidded and hazy, met his.

He traced my lips with a thumb, pulling the bottom one down before releasing it.

I leaned in to kiss him but he held me back.

His voice was dark. “No more Vincent Monroe, Gianna.”

“You threatened him.”

“Hardly.”

I should be angry—angry that he approached Vincent, angry that he thought he held some authority in my life, but at the time, I could only think about how he’d taken me home when I was drunk, took off my shoes, and left a glass of water on my nightstand.

“There is no Vincent Monroe,” I breathed.

When he released me, I didn’t hesitate to press my mouth to his. This time, he kissed me, lazy and sweet, before pulling back with a long, deep lick that wasn’t much of a kiss at all.

Fisting the string of my thong, he ripped the material at my hip, leaving a sharp sting behind. My panties fell down one thigh, baring me to his eyes completely.

He ran a thumb down my landing strip, voice hoarse. “I’ve wondered if this was still here.”

A smile touched my lips. “You’ve been thinking about me, huh?” I’d only been teasing him by repeating something he’d once said to me and certainly didn’t expect his response.

“Only when I need to come.”

My smile fell, and my breathing shallowed.

I met his eyes to see he was owning what he’d said completely, and something about the admission was so incredibly hot, it brought a rush of honesty from me.

“Ditto,” I whispered.

A groan resounded in his chest, and then he kissed me. Slipped his tongue into my mouth. Pulled my bottom lip between his teeth. Kissing Christian Allister made me feel more alive than any drug ever could.

I tried to undo the buttons on his shirt, but he grabbed my wrists and stopped me. Something cold settled in my stomach. I worked myself free from his grip, and as if he hadn’t already denied me once, I tried again, only to get the same result.

“It’s staying on,” he said harshly against my lips.

He wouldn’t let me touch him, not really. And sitting here with my body on shameless display, it suddenly felt . . . humiliating. I pulled away, tugged my dress down, and reached for the door handle.

“Fuck no,” he growled, grabbing my wrist. “You got me this hard, Gianna. You’re gonna stick around and fix it.”

“Fix it yourself, stronzo.”

“You’re an attention-seeker, sure, but not a fucking tease.”

“And you’re a selfish bastard who takes and doesn’t give anything in return,” I snapped.

“Selfish?” He laughed. “I ate your pussy for so long last time I can still taste you three years later.”

My eyes narrowed. “You’re crude.”