Strong Enough

Still facing away from me, he lifted the glass to his lips. “How was your night?”

“Great,” I lied. “Yours?”

“Fine.” He didn’t elaborate, and I wasn’t about to ask.

“Guess I’ll head up to bed. It’s late.” And then I stood there for some stupid reason, as if I expected him to object.

He didn’t.

I puffed up my chest a little. “Tomorrow, I’m leaving. I’ll find another place to stay.”

A pause while he drank. “Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do,” he repeated, and I wondered if he was drunk. He tipped back the rest of whatever he’d poured and set down the glass. Then he walked over to me, and we stood chest to chest. “The right thing to do would be to go upstairs and lock your door. But you’re not going to do that, are you?”

It was a challenge, and I took it.

Turning away from him, I tried to leave the room, but he grabbed my arm and yanked me backward. Then his mouth was on mine, hot and hard and heavy, one hand gripping the back of my neck, the other wrapped around my forearm.

After a few seconds of stunned ecstasy—he still wants me—I shoved him away from me. Hard.

“Yes. Fight me,” he seethed, whipping his shirt over his head. “Fight back.” He came at me again, all strength and rage and heat, pushing me back against the living room wall. “I want you to say no. I want you to push me away. I want you to be the one to stop this because I fucking can’t.” His lower body anchored mine, the solid bulge of his erection digging into the front of my hip. “I fucking can’t.”

I’d never felt so torn between pride and lust before. I wanted him as badly as I wanted to turn him down. Because this was all a game to Derek—he was fucking with me like I was some kind of toy.

But goddamn, he was hot like this—fueled by fury and passion and whiskey, unable to hold back. He wanted a fight? I could give him one. But I let him kiss me first, let his tongue invade my mouth, even stroked it with my own, but when his hand moved to the crotch of my jeans, I shoved him back again.

“Now you want me? What about Carolyn? Pick a side, Derek.”

“I saw you tonight, flirting with people.” His fists were clenched at his sides. “I didn’t fucking like it.”

“I saw you tonight—the way you must have wanted me to—on a romantic date with a woman.” I walked toward him, and he backed up slightly. “So which is it?” Grabbing my T-shirt at the back of my neck, I pulled it off and tossed it aside. “What do you want? This or that?”

“Fuck you.” He rushed toward me and our bodies crashed together, all groping hands and open mouths and heavy, choked-off breaths. I hooked one leg behind his and took him down to his knees, and he pushed me onto my back, his body sprawled on top of mine.

His weight on me felt so fucking good, and through our jeans, our cocks strained to get closer, bulging against the denim as Derek rocked his hips over mine—delicious, agonizing friction. My hands were everywhere.

“God help me, I have to have you,” he whispered. He dragged his mouth down my neck and chest, over the tightly knotted muscles of my stomach. When he reached the waistband of my jeans, he pushed back onto his knees, straddling my legs. I propped myself up on my elbows in disbelief and watched as he unbuttoned, unzipped, and yanked them down to my thighs, my cock springing free.

I thought he might hesitate. I thought he might ask. I thought he might do any number of things that would indicate he’d never sucked a dick before and perhaps felt some ambivalence about it.

Nope.

Fisting my shaft with one hand he angled it toward his mouth and lowered his head, taking me between his lips. I groaned as his tongue swept over my crown and he began to suck, his head moving up and down my length. Oh my God, was this really happening? How was it possible to get the best blowjob I’d ever had from a complete novice? How did he take me so deep, suck me so hard, stroke me just the right way with his tongue?

Because it’s Derek. He’s perfect at everything.

“Jesus,” I whispered, closing my eyes as I hit the back of his throat again and again and again. If I kept watching, this was going to be over quickly, and I wanted this hot, wet, mind-blowing rapture to go on forever. But even the sounds were enough to do me in—he wasn’t holding anything back—and I knew I wasn’t going to last.

I opened my eyes as he looked up at me. Oh, fuck.

“Gonna come,” I choked out.

He went at me even harder, a ferocious growl escaping his throat, almost like he was ordering me to do it, threatening me if I didn’t. No problem, because a second later my climax ripped me wide open, and I was groaning and gasping and cursing as my cock pulsed and streamed inside his mouth, watching the whole thing happen with wide, disbelieving eyes.

When he’d swallowed every last drop, he released me and crawled back up my body to claim my mouth. He tasted like whiskey and sex, and I couldn’t get enough. “I want to fuck you,” he said, the words hot against my lips.