Derision (The Broken Bonds 7)

He sucks me into his mouth, hard and without mercy. When he releases me, he says, “Done.”

The relief is instant. Selfishly, I dreaded his reaction, worried over what I’d have done had he denied me this, if he had any objections to my dedication to my brother. Before Chase turned my world upside down with just one touch…everything was clear and certain.

I worked as a paralegal at Lark and Gannet. I spent my days wrapped up in cases, my nights alone, dreading the ring of my phone, a knock at my door—the confirmation to the sick feeling plaguing my stomach that my brother was gone.

Living in a constant state of fear and panic has left little room for my own personal desires. Rather, they’re a burden, more easily ignored than recognized.

Then, Chase brought a fantasy to life. Everything is twisted and warped now, filled with heat and sensation. Stirring, carnal want. And I don’t know if I’m more terrified to lose it or embrace it.

The last time a man asked anything of me, he took and took…

“And don’t call me baby,” I blurt as unwanted memories flood back.

This request has the opposite effect of what I want. Chase pulls away, and before I’m brave enough to open my eyes, I feel him before me, his heady scent of cologne intoxicating, his warmth vibrating near.

“Look at me.”

I force my eyes to obey. The depth of his blue irises is startling; the intensity in his gaze a threat. I fear I’ve angered him—that I’ve somehow offended him.

He cups my face, bringing me close. “I would never dare insult you with such a cheap, lazy declaration of my desire for you, Alexis.”

And that’s all it takes. In one fell swoop, I become his. Completely. The brutality of his authority, the derision he’s inflicted thus far and all he promises to come, is swept aside with one intimate lamination of his near affection for me. The fall I’m about to suffer will wreck me so much worse than any scorn he can inflict.

Still, there’s a curious glint in his gaze. A question masked beneath his conviction that flashes red with warning. He hasn’t asked—but he wants to know the why behind my request. And even as I’m tumbling, the fear of what he could do with that knowledge harbors on the edge of my consciousness.

Before memories long ago buried can wreak havoc, his lips touch mine, his mouth sealing me to him in a binding contract. “Is that all?” he whispers, his voice so soft I almost believe he’s capable of that tender affection.

But just as quickly, that gentleness vanishes when I nod my answer.

“Speak up,” he orders.

“Yes. That’s all I want.”

That devilish smile curls his lips, displaying the dimple in his cheek. “That’s hardly all you want, temptress.” He proves his claim with an expert caress between my thighs, lighting my body aflame. “Lift your arms.” As I do, he grasps the bottom of my dress and drags it up my body, over my head.

A shiver envelops me, the cool kiss of air licking my bare skin, the sight of him running the sheer material through his hand, stretching it out in front of me. Then with measured control, he raises the banded dress over my head and glides it down my back. Weaving it beneath my arms, he anchors the taut material around me. “Lie back,” he says.

As I do, the dress supporting me as he lowers me to the table, my chest arced toward him as he crawls above, the erotic way in which he poses me this moment shatters all my barriers.

This man could ravage me, body and mind. He could tear me down, and I’d beg him to do it again.

“You’re under my skin,” he whispers so close to my ear his lips graze me. “And the only answer is to deliver a brutal fucking.”

His threat steals my breath, the weight of him pressing me against the table as he covers my body prevents me from filling my lungs, and I know I’ll never take another breath without craving his scent.

He reaches a hand down between us, his movements as he unzips his jeans rubbing me, teasing me, heightening my anticipation. With a harsh groan, he releases himself. His hardness is heavy against the sensitive skin of my pelvis. A pulse reverberates deep within me; the need to have him filling me consumes my being.

Then he’s grinding between my legs, the smooth skin of his thick shaft sliding between my wet lips, drumming up my pulse until my breathing ratchets. A spike of pleasure travels through my back as he rubs against my clit.

Cupping my wrist, he drives my hand above my head, where he clasps my arms together. Rising up, he grinds hard into me, bearing down on my wrists as he physically asserts his dominance.

“I’m going to fuck you long and slow,” he says, each word enforced with a hard thrust, making my back arch off the table. “Make you feel how badly I’ve craved you all these months.”

I suck in a sharp breath as his mouth surrounds my nipple. His teeth graze, his tongue flicks, and as my body reacts, muscles clenching, he drives into me.

His groan travels the length of me as he pushes deeper, opening me up to take him. “Fuck. My tight little cunt—how I’m going to punish it for teasing me.”

“I didn’t…” I claim. For some reason, I desperately want him to know this.