The Maddest Obsession (Made 2)

“Yeah, that—” I moaned, digging my fingers into the sheets as the wet heat of his tongue swept between my legs. “Oh, God . . .”

He groaned low in his throat, and then he flipped me onto my back, his body covering mine, his hard-on settling between my legs. Placing a hand on either side of me, he leaned in and nipped my breast before sucking the nipple deep. Heat erupted inside of me, liquefying in my veins. I grabbed his biceps, only able to get my hands around a quarter of them. Antonio was tall and strong, but he wasn’t this thick. A wave of nervousness rushed in. I preferred normal-sized men because they were more on my level; I didn’t fear they could crush my windpipe with a single squeeze.

Maybe I was getting over my head.

But then he switched breasts, pinching one nipple and sucking the other.

Oh, well.

“Take off your shirt,” I begged.

I wanted to feel him—the muscle beneath his skin, the heat of his body, the heavy beat of his heart against mine.

I stilled in anticipation when he lifted his head because I thought he was going to kiss me, but he only pressed his mouth to my ear. “I’ll let you know when I start taking orders from little Italian girls.” It was a harsh and arrogant statement, but his voice was so full of lust it only drove me crazier. I rolled my hips, rubbing myself up and down his erection as he kissed a hot, wet line down my neck.

I moaned, scraping my nails down his arms, trying to crawl into his skin.

He dropped back between my legs, not hesitating before dipping his head and licking me from entrance to clit. The growl of satisfaction that escaped him vibrated against me, and I already fought the imminent orgasm. He ran a rough hand down my leg, pulling my thigh over his shoulder. It was almost tender, the soft sweep of his palm against my skin, and a beat skipped in my chest.

I ran my fingers through his hair, but he shook my hand off, so I grabbed two fistfuls of the comforter instead, while spewing unintelligible English and Italian as he pushed his tongue inside me. In and out. In and out. My eyes rolled back in my head, my spine arching off the bed. A drop of sweat ran between my breasts. He worked me like he’d been there before, knowing just how much to give before pulling back.

In a mindless state, I ran a hand into his hair again, grabbing a handful and moving my hips at the same time, trying to keep his attention where I needed it. He let me control the movement for only a second. He nipped at my clit and I yelped, trying to jump back and out of his hold. Pain pulsed in that spot.

His narrowed gaze found mine. “You take what I give you.”

I glared, barely biting back the retort on my tongue.

“Go ahead and say it,” he warned.

I did say it, because one, he’d goaded it from me, and two, I was a glutton for punishment.

“You’re an asshole.”

I was expecting it, but I still had to hold in a gasp when he smacked me between the legs. Dark satisfaction crawled up from where I’d hidden her deep inside, fiery-red hair and all.

“Anything else?”

Defiance ignited inside me, but I bit my tongue and shook my head.

“Good,” he murmured, his gaze lazy, before sucking at my clit.

It still throbbed with pain, but the wet heat of his mouth was electrifying, setting my entire body on fire. The pressure built and built as he continued to draw out my release for as long as he could. I cried out, squirming against his immovable hold.

I wanted to run my hands all over him, but I knew, if I touched his precious hair he’d stop. So, I rested a hand over his on my thigh, locking my fingers with his, and in pure, mindless lust, tugged at my hair with the other.

Sparks burned hotter, and then, suddenly, the pressure exploded. I came so hard my ears rang, pulling all sounds underwater. I closed my eyes and struggled to catch my breath. A languid sensation pulled on my muscles, and I’d never felt such peace come over me. He said something, but I couldn’t hear a word of it.

My eyes fluttered open to see his on me. His breathing was uneven, and his gaze was filled with something soft and dark that I wasn’t sure I wanted to understand.

He was much different than a man I would choose in a crowd, but maybe that was why I found him so appealing. He terrified me a little bit, and I always did like to live on the edge.

Crawling to my knees, I knelt in front of him, rested my hands on his chest, and pressed my lips to his neck. The small taste made me feel dizzy. I kissed him from his ear down to his collar, and he inhaled a heavy breath. I tried to undo his tie, but he stopped me by grabbing my wrist. He held onto it as I went lower, running my face down his stomach, kissing his abs through his shirt. His hand settled in my hair, running through my locks.

The ringing of a phone cut through the air. He stilled, and I knew—call it intuition—that if he got up, this was over. I wasn’t ready. Rrring, rrring, rrring. With my eyes on him, I licked his erection through his pants. He let out a rough noise of frustration. When I reached for his belt buckle, he grabbed my wrist again.

I moaned in protest as he pulled away from me and walked to his jacket, which hung on the back of a chair in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window. I lay on my stomach and watched him answer the call.

“Allister.”