Rapture (Renegades 7)

“Yes, it can,” she told him. “Very easily. Just let go of my hands, I’ll drop to my knees and take you throat-deep.”

His foot kicked something, and he stumbled before catching himself. “Jesus Christ, stop talking like that.”

“You asked what I like.”

“I take it back. I don’t want you to tell me. I want to find out for myself.”

When a piece of furniture hit her legs, he angled his body until she fell to a seat. And found herself eye-level with his crotch. Perfect.

She dragged her hands from his grasp, pushed at his pants and found his cock again.

She’d barely teased the tip into her mouth when Chase pulled her head back with a growl. “Bad girl.”

“I’m trying.”

He rested one knee against the sofa at her hip, wrapped an arm around her waist, and moved her farther back on the cushions. Then followed her down.

Hovering above, he kissed her, a hungry, intense, mind-bending assault that moved something deep inside her. Something so strong, it frightened her. Something she’d never felt before. His hair slipped through her fingers, thick and soft. His mouth demanded nothing less than everything. And despite her attempts to remain distant, her plan to keep this about the sex, somehow, this had already moved past that. Into deeper territory.

Part of her wanted to let things play out slowly, enjoy the moment with Chase. It was the only one they’d have. She’d decided that long before they’d even reached the hotel room. But another, stronger, well-developed part of herself wanted to get lost in the passion so she didn’t have to think about what she was doing, who she was doing it with, or what consequences might follow.

She was aching and wet when she reached between them, sliding one hand into his pants again. Chase caught her wrist.

“Chase.” His name came out more breathless and whiney than she’d ever heard it. “Let me touch you.”

“No.” He collected both hands in one of his and pressed them to the sofa above her head. “You want control. You like everything prepackaged in neat little boxes so you know what to expect. So everything stays inside your comfort zone.” He slipped his free hand behind one of her knees and pulled her thighs wide. “You’re intimidating on the set. An expert in your field. Men bend to your will with the bat of an eyelash.”

He was getting a little too close to the borders of those comfort zones. “If you didn’t want a strong woman in bed, you picked the wrong person to sleep with.”

“I’ve never been more sure I’m in the right place with the right woman. I’m also sure that you think staying in control keeps you safe. Safe from trusting. Safe from getting close. But I…” He paused, the air thick between them. “I also want to be different, Z.”

He looked wickedly sexy hovering over her, his shirt hanging open, his pants undone, the city lights playing over his wide chest and tight abs. His free hand stroked her leg, knee to hip, lifting her skirt to expose her panties and spread thighs.

“Mmm.” His gaze traveled down her body. “I smell you.” His words were primal, his voice low and rough. “You make me hungry.” When his eyes met hers again, a smile tipped his lips. One that looked more predatory than amused. “I’m going to take a wild guess here. I bet you don’t let anyone go down on you.”

The dirty words, the dirtier thought, washed her body with gooseflesh. Her sex clenched with a fresh wave of lust. “Could we end the psychoanalysis and get naked?”

Chase slipped his fingers beneath her panties. His whisper-soft touch made electricity arc through her pelvis.

“Damn.” His voice shook. “You’re so wet.” And he stroked her again.

Her back arched,

and she gritted her teeth around a groan. Pleasure pulsed between her legs. “Chase.”

He rested one knee on the cushion at her hip and lifted her hands overhead, pinning them to the sofa. His other hand pushed deep between her legs and did things that made her breath catch and her throat vibrate with sounds of pleasure. Made her squirm and pant. Made her eyes roll back in her head.

“Like that?” His voice was steel-coated velvet.

Zahara couldn’t find the words to respond, her brain too hazed, her breathing too fast. But when she opened her eyes, she found his handsome face a foot from hers, his expression an intense combination of dominance and pleasure. This was a side of him she didn’t know. A side she hadn’t expected. The fire in his eyes made the ache inside her deepen. Need clawed at her belly. She lifted her hips.

“Yeah,” he said, tone dripping dark pleasure. “I think you like that.”

He lowered his head to kiss her, a teasing, lingering kiss, imitating his touch. Drawing her up, then holding her there.

When he finally slid his fingers inside her, pleasure sucked the air from her lungs and closed her throat. He drove deep, his biceps flexing as he filled her. She closed her fingers around his hand holding hers, nails digging into flesh. The sound that choked out of her came straight from her chest. Then he moved inside her, did something that made ecstasy trip through her. Made her spine arc, her head drop back. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

His open mouth found her throat, his tongue, teeth, lips tasting her skin. And Jesus Christ, whatever the hell he was doing inside her made her want to crawl out of her skin, climb the walls. He pumped deep, circled slow, withdrew until she was about to beg him not to stop. But before she could form the words, he was knuckles-deep again. She shivered and rocked, arched and moaned, a puppet controlled by an expert puppeteer, plucking and pulling her every string.