The Obsession (Filthy Rich Americans 2)

I loved it.

But it wasn’t enough for him. He stood, slung back the water off his intense face, and seized my shoulder. It was so he could turn me around and get at the clasp of my bra. He undid the two hooks, releasing the tension on the band, and as soon as the bra began to slide down my arms, he was there, cupping my breasts with his hands, squeezing hard and cruel.

Royce brought our lower bodies together, pushing his hips into my ass. The thrust had enough force I had to slap my hands against the glass wall that looked out into the bathroom to stop myself from going headfirst into it. When he ground his erection against me, simulating what he wanted to do without clothes in our way, my body went white-hot.

One of his hands grasped my hip, and his fingers dug in, holding me as he rubbed the protruding zipper of his pants over my ass. His tone was merciless. “You want it?”

Oh, God, how I did. I matched his aggression, becoming a snarling, desperate thing. “Give it to me.”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me toward him, curving me uncomfortably back so he could growl it in my ear. “After you put on my fucking ring.”

He released me with a shove, and my elbows banged into the glass, but he didn’t care. This was a man with purpose and drive, who’d spent too much time under his father’s rule. He was an alpha off the leash, determined to reestablish his dominance.

Royce grabbed my left hand, and then the ring was there, being jammed back down on its home on my finger. He let out a heavy sigh when it was done like he’d just defused a bomb.

His fingers scored down my back and skimmed around my body, flowing over the waistband of my pants until he found the snap at the top of my fly. It popped open with a soft crack, followed by the vrip of my zipper, and his deft hand shoved down the front of my panties.

“Oh,” I whispered.

My fingers squealed against the glass as I tightened my hands into fists. His touch lit me up, made pleasure burst inside my core. The rough, mean stroke of his fingers over such a delicate part of me felt good. Dirty. Deserved.

Our hurried breaths competed with the sound of the water beating down on us.

I tipped my head forward, resting it against the glass, and although the shower was steamy, I could make us out in the mirror across the room. Me, topless and slumped over, him behind me, one white-sleeved arm cutting across my body as his hand disappeared into my pants. They were so drenched they almost looked black.

His stirring hand made me mindless. I moaned and sighed in bliss, rocking back against his hips to try to signal what I wanted.

He straightened and withdrew from me. “Get those pants off,” he ordered. “Show me your ass.”

It was strange how I welcomed his control when any other time I would’ve hated it. His commands set my blood on fire and made my fingers clumsy with lust, but I was able to work the tight, wet pants down over my hips, one side and then the other until they were bunched at my knees.

Threads ripped as he hurried to undo his cuffs and then the buttons of his shirt before flinging it to the floor. It made a wet slap against the tile. I closed my eyes in a slow blink, caught under his spell as his large palm wandered appreciatively over my backside. He squeezed the round globe of one ass cheek and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Whatever it was, it sounded complimentary.

His belt buckle rang out. Then his zipper. In the shapes in the mirror, I saw the blue color of his pants fall halfway down his thighs.

The ache for him was awful. It made my knees wobble and my chest tight. The only relief was him and the connection of our bodies. He raked his fingers down my back, gripping my underwear and tugging it down my ass until it was just out of his way.

Heat engulfed me as the thick head of him stroked through my slit, preparing, and in one quick move he rammed into me, all the way to the base.

“Fuck.” Everything tensed from the ache.

He froze. “Too fast?”

It was only the third time I’d had sex, and never in this position before, which made him feel huge and like he went on forever. It was uncomfortably tight and full, and I swallowed hard. Yes, it was too fast, but I also liked it. His urgent need to have me mirrored my own. It felt dire the moment before he’d shoved himself inside me. So, I bit the inside of my cheek and shook my head, hoping he’d keep going. I needed him to show me the truth with his body, since it was the only way I believed him.