And I Love You the Most (This Love Hurts 3)

With my tongue starting at the bottom of his shaft, I lick up to his head, loving the rough hum of satisfaction he gives me. Holding him steady at his base, I swallow him down as much as I can while pressing him to the back of my throat and moaning.

“Fuck.” Christopher murmurs the sexiest groan I’ve ever heard, his heels digging into the bed and his hips thrusting up.

The cuffs clink as he pulls against them again and they get my attention. I’m already hot, desire and the slight chill in the air pebbling my nipples. Without hesitation, I spread my legs and climb on top of him, sitting around his hips. I don’t dare push him inside me, though, not yet.

“I told you, you would beg me,” Christopher states, his lips staying parted with his heavy breathing matching my own. “I didn’t expect you to steal that pleasure from me.”

“I could still beg you,” I answer and then drop a kiss onto his chest. My hair falls around my shoulders, landing on his broad chest as I plant kisses there and trail up to his neck. My clit presses against his pubic hair and the sensation overrides my common sense. As the heat builds inside of me, I rock against him, taking pleasure in the small motions, kissing and sucking up his neck, the rough stubble leaving small scratches behind, but I don’t care.

When my lips meet his, he leans forward to deepen our kiss, his tongue pressing against my seam until I grant him entry. Although I’m on top, although he’s the one bound, the kiss is very much led by him, possessive and demanding.

And I love it.

It takes everything I have in me to break it, letting my forehead rest on his as I whisper against his lips, “You lied to me.”

I’m all too aware that his body has stiffened and I know his eyes are open with his lashes brushing against my face, but I keep mine closed.

“I didn’t,” he says and his response is whispered against my throat.

My swallow is audible, the fear of confrontation rising, when I answer him, “You told me your name was Marcus.”

A prickling sensation travels down my body, as cold as ice and I don’t dare move, much less open my eyes as he sits up higher, jostling my body as he does.

“I am many things, but I’m not a liar. You knew me as Marcus and that’s who I am.”

Slowly I open my eyes, kissing his lips that don’t move.

“Tell me what your name is.” I give the command, but I’m begging him and he knows it.

“Stop it.” His own inhale stutters and my heart breaks for him.

“Please,” I beg.

There’s a heat and intensity between us that is raw and fragile, so easily broken but that’s why it’s so precious.

“Your name is Christopher.”

“Stop it.” His whisper is just as much a plea as my own and tears gather in my eyes as I confess, “And I love you. I love you and I’m so sorry for what happened to you.”

“Don’t say that name ever again,” he warns me, but he doesn’t move. He could buck me off, he could push me to the side with his body. He could fight back still, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t move in the least.

Not until I remind him, “You’re the one who’s cuffed, Christopher.”

In a swift movement, he whips his body around, his arms crossing above my head as I’m thrown under him with a loud yelp.

Naked and caged beneath him, I nearly kick out, my legs drawing forward, but I spread them instead so I don’t hurt him. With his hips between my thighs, my back pushed into the mattress, his rigid cock presses against my heat.

The shadows dance along his strong body as he hovers over me.

“Stop it,” he warns and I shake my head, even now as I’ve lost my position that only held a semblance of power.

“I love you, Christopher.”

There is anger and pain etched into the chiseled features of his face as I lie there under him, daring to reach up and cup his chin. Although he stares down at me, giving commands and taking away my power, it doesn’t stop me from kissing him and he kisses me back. At first he merely molds his lips to mine, and then soon he’s kissing me deep, feverishly taking.

Reaching lower, I guide him inside of me and then kiss his throat. I tilt my hips up as he thrusts his down, stilling inside of me when I gasp.

His girth stretches me to the slight point of pain, but the pleasure is so overwhelming the pain doesn’t matter. It only adds to my desire for more.

He’s still cuffed and it makes it harder for him until I slip under him, down the bed and let his forearms rest beside me.