King's Ransom (Ruthless Doms 3)

I shouldn’t. I should fight him, make him earn me back, but hell, when those blue eyes of his crinkle around the edges and his lips tip up, I’m a goner. I’m a fucking goner.

“So, who will make the first move, then?” he asks, in a suggestive voice that makes my toes curl.

Oh, God, I want him.

“The first move?” I ask, and that stirs all kinds of things in me. Panty-dampening, nipple-tingling, dry mouth things. “Well I dunno. What do you have in mind?”

“Oh,” he says teasingly. “I’m not so sure. Maybe… something like this?”

He cups my jaw between both his hands, bends his mouth to mine, and brushes our lips together. I am so ready for him, my body goes all full-tingle just from the kiss, and I press my thighs together because the throbbing between my legs is instant.

And then he’s tugging me to his chest, and my hair is wrapped all around his fingers, and I’m sniffling a little onto his shirt and he’s rocking me right there on the couch. “Get upstairs,” he finally whispers in my ear, “before daddy has to make you.”

Daddy.

I moan and kiss him again, but I must not move fast enough, for the next thing I know he’s lifting me up and over his shoulder, his huge palm crashing on my ass as he ascends the steps. I wiggle my butt and kick my legs because God that feels good, and he smacks my ass again, harder this time. I squeal but I close my eyes and breathe him in, because this is Stefan. He’s back. I’m his girl, and he’s carrying me off to his cave, practically dragging me by the hair and pounding his chest and I love it. I need it.

He kicks open the door to his room and brings me in, tossing me on the bed as he tears at his clothes.

“Clothes,” he grates out, tearing his t-shirt over his head. “Off.” I’d rather just lay here watching him strip and drinking him in with my eyes, but I know that look he’s giving me, and there’s no doubt in my mind that if I don’t do exactly what he says right now, he’ll spank my ass.

Not that that would be a bad thing.

So I whip off my top and toss it to the floor, followed by my bra and jeans, and just when I’m yanking them off my feet, his hands are on me, pulling them down before he rips my panties off. Soon, the clothing roadblock has been removed, and he presses me down onto the bed, his heavy, muscled body above mine.

“I love you, Taara Khan,” he rumbles in my ear. “And I’m sorry for being a dick.”

“I forgive you,” I say. “And yes, you were such a dick.”

He punishes me by pulling my hair back, but I love the way my scalp burns and tingles. “You didn’t deserve that,” he says. I don’t respond, because I’m all choked up again. All I do is cry these days, and I don’t want to anymore. I want to laugh. I want to scream in ecstasy and let him bring me to pleasure over and over again. I want to lay on his chest and tell him my dreams. I want to listen to him when he comes home after a bad day, when he’s had to make a difficult decision. I want to cook his meals and make his bed and do all the little domestic things I always have for him, because I love taking care of him. I love it so much it hurts to think of not having it.

But then I can’t think anymore, because he’s pressing his swollen cock between my legs and teasing the head along my clit. I moan and spread my legs wider. He pins my wrists and kisses my temple, then drags his lips along the side of my face to my jaw, kissing along the way.

“I love you, babygirl,” he says. “I love you so much.”

He loves me.

He really, truly loves me. And I know then that men like Stefan show their love in more than words. They show it in selfless giving, in vigilance and protection.

“I love you,” I whisper back, my voice trembling. “I love you so much it hurts.”

He holds himself above me, his eyes piercing mine with intensity and passion.

“Yeah, baby?” he says teasingly. “Then give that pussy to daddy,” he says, and my insides melt into a puddle.

The first thrust has me moaning, the second, forgetting who I am or how I got here. By the third, I’m riding the first crest of ecstasy and he’s building the sweetest, most perfect rhythm of pleasure. The feel of him in me, gliding in and out, electrifies me. I wrap my legs around his back as he anchors himself above me, his gaze never leaving mine with every vicious, perfect stroke of his cock.