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“Fuck, please don’t think I’m pressuring you. I’m more than happy with how far we’ve come.” His hand covered his eyes, worried that he’d see pain in hers. Or worse—obligation. “I’ve tried to be honest, but I don’t want you to think my need for you is something you have to solve.”
“You need me?”
The quiver in her voice gutted him. “No!” He swallowed because he’d said he wouldn’t lie. “I mean, fuck, yes, at some point I need to bury myself inside you and find heaven again, but no, I’m not asking for that right now. There’s no rush.”
“Montrell!” she snapped. “Look at me.”
He forced his eyes to find hers, letting out a breath when there were no tears in her eyes. Locking gazes was good. She’d see he was serious about not wanting to rush.
“You could have had me,” she said. “That first night I came to you.”
“No!” Montrell realized he’d shouted at her, but she hadn’t flinched. His was the jaw that tightened. “Not like that. I took exactly what I wanted that night. I have no regrets.”
Remembering the way she had orgasmed made him hard him all over again. His hands clenched at his sides.
Beatrice rose from her chair. “You know, it’s difficult sometimes. Me being in charge of this. You said you prefer to be in charge.” Her head tilted to the side as her eyes drifted down to linger on his obvious erection. “Are you really holding back?”
Oh, he was fucked, but in the wrong way. She was going to push herself. For him. He tried to find the logical path out of his predicament, but he couldn’t lie to her. “Of course I’m holding back!” His strangling cock could vouch for that. “Of course I fucking am, but it doesn’t matter! So I work two out in the shower instead of one. It’s plenty of orgasms. And I imagine your sweet cunt every time.”
Her eyes flew back to his face.
He took a full breath. “Hell, imagining you orgasming is enough sometimes. I came the first time you did. Don’t you remember?”
She licked those red lips of hers. Whatever lipstick she wore was magic. “I do.”
“Please don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Her hands dipped under her skirt, trying to distract him.
“Bea, I—” He lost his train of thought as he watched her pull her panties down her thighs until they were loose enough to fall to her feet.
Beatrice stepped out of them in those gorgeous, black heels that had what looked like spikes tipping the point. She crouched, her dress sliding up her thighs, and picked up her panties.
He’d thought his cock was being strangled before. When she moved to him and pushed her panties into his front pocket, he couldn’t hold back his groan.
“I don’t feel pressured. Maybe I should.”
“No, Bea—” Montrell bit his tongue as her hand cupped his cock. The wine from earlier swirled in his head and his belly as he tried to think.
Beatrice pressed her body to his, her hand trapped between them. Which was fine. More than fine. If she started rubbing him, maybe he’d disgrace himself instead of forcing her down on the nearest table and fucking her into it.
He couldn’t do that. But God, he wanted to.
She lifted on tiptoe, her lips brushing his ear. “I want to give up control to you. Don’t hold back.” The small bite to his lobe was so fucking sexy that he groaned again. “Do whatever you want to do to me.”
His brain was short-circuiting, but at her words the image from earlier rose. “Whatever I want?”
“Yes. You have my permission.”
And he couldn’t resist. He lifted her against him, striding to the nearest clean table. He didn’t care about food stains, but Beatrice would. His arm swept off the place settings, plates breaking on the ground and the candle flying. Luckily it wasn’t lit.
Beatrice clung to him as her eyes flew wide. Fuck, that shocked look on her face was delicious.
“Giulia—”
“Knows how to read a fucking room,” he growled, placing her on the table and taking her mouth. His own was greedy and hard and demanding. She froze at first, but then she was kissing him back, and damned if she wasn’t also greedy. Beatrice wasn’t scared. She wanted this. She’d given him permission.
He still wanted to make sure. He’d already positioned himself between her legs, and there was no doubt she felt his erection pressed against her.
