“You’re wet,” he whispers.
When he takes my clit between two fingers and squeezes, I suck in a breath and my eyes close and I’m not pushing him away anymore. I’m clinging to him.
“You’re wet and I smell you,” he says, voice low and deep and I think his words become my undoing because he knows. He knows I want this. Despite everything, I want this. Want him.
He leans his face to mine and his lips brush my neck and his fingers, fuck, his fingers. I’m going to come.
“Stefan,” it’s a gasp and my knees are wobbling. They’re going to give out.
He must know because all of a sudden, he lifts me in his arms and he’s laying me on his bed and he’s dragging my panties off.
My legs hang off the edge and he kneels on the floor between them, pulling me to him, bending my knees back to look at me for one long moment before closing his mouth over my sex and devouring me whole. He’s sucking and licking and one hand moves upward, and when he takes my nipple and squeezes it, I cry out because I’m coming. I’m coming and I’m loud and desperate and the only word I seem to remember at all is his name. His damned name. Because I’m chanting it, breathless and out of my head and out of this world, I am chanting his name as I come on his tongue.
When it’s finished, when I can think, I open my eyes again, he straightens to his full height and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.
I feel my face burn and draw my legs in.
He looks me over, and I’m grateful he doesn’t say anything. Just looks. Because in his eyes, I see what he thinks. He’s conquered me.
And he has, hasn’t he?
He walks away and I sit up, watching him. From the bottle on the table across the room, he pours himself a tumbler of whiskey. He turns to me, drinks, watching me.
“Come here,” he says.
I have a choice to make. I can let him own this night, or I can take it from him.
“Gabriela. I said come here.”
And so, I make my choice.
I get to my feet. I’m naked but for my bra and stockings but I hold my head high as I walk to him and, without a word, I take his glass and I swallow the contents.
He’s obviously surprised. One corner of his mouth curves upward and I set the glass down and wipe the back of my hand across my lips.
“Are you going to play games with me all night?” I ask, steeling myself, my voice strong. “Or are you going to fuck me?”
He grins, studying me. He unbuttons the top buttons of his shirt, pulls it out of his pants and undoes the cuffs before pulling it over his head.
I let my gaze wash over him the way his does me. No, worse.
I look him over like he’s a piece of meat.
And I like the feeling.
I lay my fingernails on his hard chest and drag them down, meeting his gaze while I undo his belt, the button of his pants. I pull his zipper down a little, just enough to slide my hand inside and I keep my eyes locked on his as I cup his hard cock and squeeze.
I smile when Stefan sucks in a breath.
“I love that you call my name when you come,” he says. He’s trying to take it back, take back the night.
But I won’t let him. “I like coming.”
His grin widens. “Dirty girl.” He takes my face in his hands, holds me as he brings his mouth to my ear and licks the shell of it. “I like dirty girls,” he whispers, then takes the lobe between his teeth and when he draws it out, I feel it in my core and hear myself gasp and I want him. “I like doing dirty things to dirty girls.”
I bring my mouth to his and kiss him. Almost. It’s more a snapping of my teeth to taste the metallic taste of blood.
He moans, licking his own blood off his lip, and watches me as he slides his arms downward. He circles my wrists and it’s like we’re dancing a well-coordinated tango as he walks me backward to his bed. When the backs of my knees hit, I let myself drop down.
Stefan looms over me and I watch him strip off the rest of his clothes and fuck, he’s beautiful, all hard muscle and power, his cock thick and ready and I’m not sure how I’m going to take that inside me.
When he’s naked, when he’s given me a good look, he sets his knees on the bed, lays his weight on top of me. He’s heavy but it feels good.