Property of Drex (Death Chasers MC 1)
Page 50
“Ben was my best friend. At one time, I thought I loved him. And I did. Just not the way I thought I did. Or wanted to. We were more curious than anything when… well, when we were together. We lasted for two years before we decided we were better as friends than a couple. That was almost a year ago.”
He looks up at me, still seeming pissed. I can’t help but poke the bear a bit.
“I can’t believe you’re jealous right now.”
Surprise flickers across his face for a fleeting second, but then it’s replaced with that cocky look he wears so well. He loses interest in strangling the fork, letting it clank to the plate, then grabs my legs and jerks me, forcing me to fall on my back as he shifts to be in between my thighs.
He stays sitting up, slowly running his hands down my bare legs, teasing the edges of my shorts with his fingers.
“Jealous?” he asks, but I’m too busy panting for air to answer him.
How he makes the world vanish and distract me from all my problems, I don’t know.
He smirks as he pulls my hand up to his lips, and I’m fairly sure I moan in response when he sucks a finger into his mouth. I know that no intelligible sound emerges when his other hand starts messing with my button.
“I’m not jealous of Ben,” he says seriously, shifting so that his body is more aligned with mine.
In one swift move, he’s lifting me onto his lap, grabbing a handful of jean-clad ass roughly, forcing me tight against him.
“Okay,” I say breathlessly.
He grins while standing, keeping me straddling his waist, but then he lowers my feet to the ground with an abruptness that immediately has me feeling bereft. I start to ask him why he’s stopping, but he turns me around, pushing me toward the window of the living room until I’m forced to put my hands up reflexively to stop myself from crashing into it.
My hands hit the warm glass, just as Drex’s hot breath finds my neck. I suck in a painful shot of air just as he pushes my shorts down. They drop to my ankles, and I step out of them, even though he keeps my movements restricted with his hold.
My shirt is torn off me, and my bra is tossed aside. He does all this with one hand as though it’s the easiest task in the world. I stare out at the backyard, looking over the pool, trying to catch my breath, just as he grabs the lacy underwear and jerks them down to my thighs.
A whimper escapes me, and I feel him grin as his teeth graze a spot of flesh between my neck and shoulder.
“Could Ben have you whimpering before he even really touched you?” His voice is challenging, as if daring me to tell him a lie.
But I don’t lie.
“No,” I whisper.
His hands run up my sides, moving up until he’s cupping my breasts, and he takes my nipples, squeezing them both. My knees try to buckle, but he drops one hand to my waist, anchoring me to the spot.
“Could Ben cause your knees to give out?” His husky whisper is barely heard over my own loud breaths.
The more he talks, the wetter I get, and he notices, especially when his hand curves around and cups me. My back arches reflexively as I try to grind against him, needing that friction.
“Did it feel like this when Ben touched you?” he asks, smirking against my neck as he pushes one thick digit inside me. But it’s not enough, and he knows it.
“Drex,” I whisper, making it sound like a plea.
“What, baby?” I ignore the fact that he sounds amused while he fucks me with his finger.
“Please,” I whisper again.
His hands move away from me, and I immediately feel the loss. But I don’t turn around because I hear the rustle of clothes being pulled off, telling me he’s about to fulfill my plea.
Hot skin finds my back, and I shiver despite his warm touch. His hands move to my hips, tugging me back, and my head falls to the side when he speaks against my ear.
“Did Ben ever make you beg for it?”
My breath catches in my throat as his finger skates over my clit, leaving it throbbing even more and desperate for touch.
“No,” I finally manage to squeak out, and he shifts behind me, adjusting his height so that he has the right angle.
He pushes my panties down a little more, restricting how far I can open my legs.
It’s erotic torture, because I want to spread them so much wider.
He bends me, pushing me down to an almost ninety-degree angle, but I keep my hands against the glass to brace myself.
The tip of his cock grazes my entrance, as he echoes, “No.” He pushes in hard, surprising me, but holds me to keep me from slamming into the glass, as he buries himself deep inside me. “The answer is no, because he never fucking owned you the way I do.”