Buttons and Shame (Buttons 4)

He downed the rest of his scotch and set the empty glass on the table with a loud thud that echoed in the large living room. The acoustics of the place amplified every movement. He rose from the couch and slowly walked toward me, over six feet of muscle and man.

I forgot to breathe.

He kneeled in front of me, lowering himself to his knees so our faces were level with one another. He stripped his shirt over his head and tossed it over the back of the couch. His hard body was defined with endless muscles. His pectorals were wide and powerful, and his abs looked like a map of endless rivers. I’d never seen a man so strong in the flesh. His arms were just as lean and tight, and he didn’t possess an ounce of fat anywhere.

My thighs squeezed together.

What the hell was wrong with me? I shouldn’t be attracted to a man who used a woman as a form of currency. I should want a man who was committed to doing the right thing, to helping me and Lizzie get out of the situation. I should want a white knight, a selfless man who had the chivalry of a gentleman.

Cane was nothing like that. He threatened to send me back unless I opened my legs and gave him what he wanted. He didn’t care about my feelings or my injuries. He just wanted to fuck me like all the others.

But I couldn’t ignore the way my lips trembled when they were pressed to his. I couldn’t forget the way my panties became drenched in my own arousal. I couldn’t forget the way it felt to have his come in my mouth, the surge of satisfaction I got when he came with a moan.

Seriously, I had a mental problem.

Cane grabbed my shirt and lifted it over my head. I cooperated but only barely. Once the fabric was gone, I felt the warm air hit my skin directly. My nipples immediately hardened once he stared at me in my bra. He pressed his face into the valley between my breasts and ran his tongue all the way to my throat.

And I moaned.

His hand snaked around my back and quickly unclasped my bra. Once the straps were loose, he yanked it off and continued to kiss my neck. I leaned back into the sofa and ran my fingers up his strong back, feeling the muscles tense and coil as he moved. I turned my head harder, wanting more of those sexy kisses.

Cane undid his jeans as he kissed me at the same time, never breaking his pace as his lips devoured me.

I knew what was coming next, but there was no way for me to stop it. I’d have to suck it up and get through it like all the other times.

Cane got my jeans loose and slid them down my legs before he grabbed my panties. He pulled those to my ankles then pushed down his jeans and boxers. He wrapped my underwear around his nine-inch length and jerked himself for a moment, using the inside of my panties as lubrication.

My lips automatically parted.

He moved his hand to the head of his cock, where a drop of his own lubrication formed. He wiped it away with my panties then let them fall to the floor. Now there was no denying that I wanted him. My body betrayed me when it leaked my arousal as evidence.

But I was still terrified.

He grabbed my hips and adjusted me on the couch, one leg pinned to the back of the cushion while the other nearly touched the coffee table. He moved on top of me, getting me ready to be fucked in the corner of the couch. My pussy was wet, and I could feel the arousal between my legs, but my heart ached in pain.

I didn’t want this.

Cane pinned my leg against this chest and pressed it toward my body. His hand grabbed his length, and he massaged it before he pointed his head at my entrance. His eyes were glued to my face, watching my reaction as his head tried to squeeze inside me.

I wanted to say no.

I wanted to ask him to stop.

But I didn’t want to go back to Tristan.

I’d rather be fucked by a man I somewhat liked over a man who made me contemplate suicide.

Cane leaned in and pressed his mouth to mine and gave me a slow kiss. Every embrace with his lips felt good, like he kissed me because he really wanted to. He adored my lips with his mouth and gently drove his tongue inside. Sometimes he opened his eyes to look at me, to see my reaction to him.

My hands anchored over his shoulders, I held on as I kissed him back. My mouth worked on its own and did what came natural. I’d kissed a few men in my life, but none of those embraces had ever been like this. He was a great kisser, attending to my mouth like I was the woman he loved.