Was my jaw on the floor?
I had to double-check because I was un-fucking prepared for that amount of confession. It came from left field and left me frozen while the words digging in my brain—making themselves at home—processed.
“Sorry if you’re into the gentle stuff,” she apologized, wincing.
“I assure you, I’m not,” I admitted with a laugh.
Her lips formed a perfect oh, too softly for me to hear. The curiosity I’d been witnessing since she arrived made more sense. She knew what she thought she wanted because of the porn; she just hadn’t experienced it yet.
Her brilliant gray eyes widened, shining like a silvery moon, and she stared up at me with so much need and want, she didn’t even need to move her lips for me to hear her plea.
I should’ve said something—anything to put a stop to all the curious swirls brewing, but the caveman held me still, just waiting.
“Show me,” she whispered.
“I can’t.” The refusal snapped free, my brain sneaking in its last attempt to save me before my body could react.
One second, then two, before her jaw turned stubborn, the curiosity blotted out by a thundercloud as she rose to her feet.
With a deep breath, I tried to convince myself it was good that she was leaving. I ignored the ache it took to fight my limbs from reaching out to grab her back.
Except, she didn’t storm out. Instead, she took the five steps to close the gap between us and fell to her knees in front of me. Knees wide with her palms resting on her thighs.
A low rumble of satisfaction built in my chest, attempting to claw its way free, begging me to let go of the fucking couch.
“Show. Me,” she ordered before quickly softening. “Please.”
My limbs shook, and blood rushed south. I struggled to focus, all my thoughts racing with what I could do to her—what I could show her. “Rose,” I practically pleaded. I wasn’t strong enough. She’d worn me down too far, and I needed her to back away for the both of us.
Her eyes flared. “Unless you can’t, and you’re just full of shit.”
I could hear the rocks crumbling away under my feet as I stood over the abyss, trying not to slide over.
“Maybe that’s why your wife left because you just fuck her with the lights off. All soft and bor—”
The next thing I knew, I was free-falling, giving over to the tension infusing every muscle from head to toe. Her words cut off when my hand snapped out to grip her jaw.
I dug in at the joints to keep her from talking as I leaned in close. “I assure you there is nothing soft and slow about the way I fuck,” I promised softly, inches from her face. “Now, say you’re sorry.”
Her breathes escaped in short bursts of heat against my mouth. “I’m sorry,” she practically purred.
But it wasn’t enough.
“Sir,” she added when I squeezed her jaw tighter.
“Good girl.”
Her pupils bloomed with pleasure, leaving the smallest ring of silver.
A voice whispered in the background, too soft to bother with. I imagined it was my good choices yelling at me to stop, but her chest rose and fell just beneath my line of sight. Her skin so fucking soft under my touch, her lips so lush, practically begging to be taken, and I desperately wanted to take and take and take.
Looking down, the nipples that taunted me all night—all week—poked against her thin white shirt. Maybe just a touch. Just one.
Keeping a hold of her jaw, I used my other hand to barely graze against her shirt, just enough to let her know I was coming, just enough to build her tension. Her breath worked fast the closer I got but cut off to a whimper when I pinched the tip between my forefinger and thumb.
So fucking hard, and a perfect fit for my grip.
I pinched harder, earning a moan.
I rolled the tip, twisting and pulling. Her eyes slid closed as he gasped and moaned harder.
“So sensitive,” I whispered almost to myself.
I wanted to tie her down and see if I could make her come from her tits alone. I wanted to stuff her with a vibrator and set a timer, seeing how many times she could come as I sucked, bit, and pinched while she begged for mercy.
“Corbin,” she breathed.
The soft, barely-there plea crashed through my fantasy, jerking me back to reality.
“Fuck,” I muttered, releasing her nipple and jaw at once.
“No,” she cried.
I shoved myself back against the couch, pinching my eyes shut. If I saw the pleading, I’d cave. “This is inappropriate. I’m sorry.”
“No. I want this.”
Small hands landed on my thighs, and I bared down with all my strength to hold back my need. “That doesn’t make this right,” I growled, biting the words out angrily. Not mad at her, but mad at myself for letting it get this far. Mad because I couldn’t fucking have it. “I’m your guardian. Your father would kill me.”