Taming Her Bad Boy

And as Cohen’s roaming hand slips under the hem of it, caressing the tender skin of my bare thigh, I realize it also gives him very easy access to exactly what he seems to be looking for.

“Cohen—” If it’s supposed to sound like a warning, or a plea to stop, I fail miserably. Instead, his name leaves my lips like a breathy confession, and the word only encourages him.

“Sounds to me like you need a little preview, Vi.”

There’s very little room i

n this bathroom, and Cohen knows it. It’s his house, after all. And that only makes the mischievous smirk on his face widen as he backs me up against the vanity, his hands now gripping my hips under the skirt with a renewed strength.

The sudden change in his eyes, the animalistic glint that shines within them, makes every muscle within the deepest parts of my core clench deliciously.

“Aren’t there still other people downstairs?”

“To hell with them. We’ll be quiet.”

“Co, we’ll be late.” Again, my words are said without fervor or admonishment.

One of his fingers dips under the hem of my panties, and I gasp as he lets his hand hover there, teasing me without actually touching me.

“Only if you keep stalling.”

“Cohen—” Another plea disguised as uncertainty.

His one hand stays strategically where he’s placed it between my thighs. The other, however, comes up to press one firm finger against my lips. “Shh,” he whispers. “You’re wasting precious time.”

He wastes no time in immersing his finger into my damp folds, and I gasp. “Oh, fuck, Cohen,” I mumble against his index finger.

His hand near my face lowers down to my throat, not clutching it, but holding me firmly in place while his other one finds the sensitive bud of my clit and begins to rub it rhythmically. “There is nothing fucking sexier than a swear word on your lips and your body in complete submission to me.”

Cohen’s voice has changed, too. Huskier, darker.

It sends a shiver down my spine, but without consciously doing it, my back arches, and I push my hips forward, silently begging for his finger to ease the intense desperation for release that his touch has awakened inside me.

I’ve begun to breathe heavily, squirming under Cohen’s grip. I can’t resist him, can’t make the physical longing that courses through my veins subside, can’t get close enough. “Oh, God. That feels so good.”

He trails his hand surprisingly tenderly up the side of my throat, then uses his thumb and index finger to grip my chin. He forces me to look at him, to see the barely contained fire in his eyes.

If I thought I had a choice at this very moment, I am mistaken. Because the wicked determination and need to control my body as he sees fit is burning brightly in his eyes. The gaze he pins me with leaves no room for negotiation.

Cohen is going to make me shatter beneath his touch, and he’s going to do it how and when he wants to.

Which, judging by the furious circles he’s rubbing against my swollen clit, I’d say he wants me to scream his name as soon as possible.

“Come on, Vi. What’s the matter?” he taunts me, seeing my eyes flutter as I struggle to control my body’s reaction to him. “You’re wet, baby. So goddamn wet. Don’t you want to come?”

Without warning, he slides his finger downward, deeper into the slippery folds of my pussy, disappearing inside me.

A desperate moan falls from my lips, and I struggle to jerk my head away from him, unable to handle the searing dominance in his eyes.

But his grip tightens slightly, and his eyes narrow. “Look at me, Vienna,” he commands. “Look at me, and come.”

I whimper. God, I’ve never wanted to come as badly as I do right now—as desperately as I need to—but I hold on, feeling the telltale tightening and clenching as my inner walls constrict around Cohen’s finger.

His eyebrow arches, the corner of his mouth turning up slyly. “Ah, that’s how we’re playing it?” He leans closer, and I think he’s going to kiss me.

But he doesn’t. Instead, I can feel the heat of his breath as he whispers, “I said come, Vienna.”

He pulls his finger from within me, only to slide another one in with it, burying them deeply as his thumb comes to rest on my swollen bud.