Stolen Hearts (Hearts 1)

And then suddenly he wasn’t kissing me. He turned me away from him and pushed me up against the door. His body hot and hard against my back. Against my . . . ass. I could feel him there. Hard through his tuxedo pants. Proof he did want me. A shuddery relief went through me.

“What do you want, Princess?”

I pressed my forehead against the door and my ass against his cock and we both made a sound like we were being tortured. He cupped my breast in his wide rough palm.

“Say it,” he groaned in my ear.

“I don’t . . . I don’t know.”

His chuckle against my neck sent shockwaves through my body, and my knees buckled. He leaned harder against me, holding me between the door with is body. “I think you do,” he said, his hands still. His hips still. “I think you know what you want. You’re just too scared to say it.”

I arched as best I could against him. I didn’t know what to do. How to seduce a man. How to make him want me. I was clueless and stupid.

And still I wanted him to touch me.

“Don’t you want me?” I whispered, hating the words. Hating myself for saying them.

“Why would I want you?” His words were a slap.

I went still, pulling myself deep inside my body. Where I couldn’t be hurt.

“You’re a pawn. A mouse,” he whispered, and I pushed away from the door trying to get away from him and his hands, both of them came up to the bodice of my dress. Reaching between my skin and the silk to cup my naked skin in his hands. I gasped. Torn down the middle by his words and his actions. The silk of my dress tore as he shoved it down, baring my breasts to the cool air.

It was violent.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“Giving you what you want.”

“Not . . . not like this.”

I braced my hands against the door and shoved, but he put his mouth at my neck at the tender skin behind my ear and he bit me. I couldn’t control the tortured moan in my throat. His mouth traveled down my shoulder, planting wet, open-mouthed kisses as he went. Sucking and biting, and I collapsed back against the door. I was angry? Why was I angry?

“You’re scared of your shadow,” he murmured, pulling the skirt of my dress up with one hand as his other cupped my breast, pulled my nipple taut until I cried out in pleasure and pain. This was too much. He was too much. I’d jumped into some kind of deep end with a man who disdained me, and I couldn’t find the will to stop him.

Where was my pride?

“Do I want you?” he breathed as he slid his hand down over the soaked satin of my barely-there thong. I shuddered and tried to escape, but he literally held me in the palm of his hand. I couldn’t tell if he was being mean or sarcastic. I couldn’t tell if he was playing a game or being honest. I didn’t have the experience or the confidence to make sense of this.

I just knew that I wanted him. Mean, sarcastic, whatever I could get from him.

He pulled the wet satin out of his way, and then he was touching me where no one had touched me for years. Years. I’d even stopped touching myself. Sex was a chore. And no part of my body wanted it.

But now . . . oh my god now, my body wanted everything. Anything. Whatever dark depraved thing he wanted to do to me, I wanted it times ten. I couldn’t breathe for the desire filling me. His fingers slipping over every inch of me, and I was on my tip toes, my head thrown back. I didn’t care what he said. Or what he thought if he would just make me come.

So long, it had been so very, very long.

“Look at you.” His voice was cold, and I whimpered. “So needy. So desperate.” He said it like it was wrong. Gross.

“I’m sorry,” I choked.

The hand that had been torturing my breasts came up to my throat, and he held me with my head arched back.

“For what?” he asked. “What are you sorry for?”

Wanting him so much. Being so needy.

Everything.

“I’ll leave,” I breathed. “Just let me go.”

I whimpered as one long finger slid down over my clit. Pressing hard enough to fill my body with sparks.

“No,” he groaned, and my knees gave out. He held me by my throat and the fingers inside of me. “It’s too late for that.”

“Then what do you want?” I twisted against his body. He was a silent steady pressure against my back.

“That girl at the party who was about to run off into the night. I want her. But she doesn’t exist anymore, does she?”