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His large hands are suddenly on my waist, fingers splaying wide as if claiming their territory. They pull me in closer, leaving no space, no air between us. There's a dominance in his grip, a silent assertion of you're mine. It doesn't scare me.
His possessiveness thrills me. With River, I never feel overpowered. I feel empowered. Like his strength is bolstering my own.
"Tell me what you want," he commands softly. His breath is hot against my cheek.
"More," I breathe out. I barely recognize my own voice, grown husky with desire. "I want more. I need more. I want you to take control of my body."
"That’s what I fucking want to hear," River says. “I always want to give you what you need, darlin.”
I grip his shirt, biting my lower lip. “I’m starving for you, River.”
His lips graze the shell of my ear. In a flash of lightning, my world narrows to the husky timbre of his voice.
"I'm going to make you feel things you've never imagined, Pearl."
Every whispered word is like a spark to dry tinder, sending a lick of flame through my veins. My breath catches, hitching in my throat. Suddenly I've forgotten how to do something as simple as breathe.
My knees tremble. My body threatens to betray me by buckling under the weight of his promises. But it's not just his words that set me on fire.
It's the certainty behind them, the raw edge of need that reflects the deep well of hunger I have inside.
"River," I manage. “Please?”
He pulls back, just enough for me to feel the loss of his heat but not the magnetic pull of his gaze. His eyes dance with a mischievous glint that tells me he knows exactly what he's doing to me. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers move to the top button of his crisp white shirt. The click of each button releasing seems to echo in the quiet emptiness of his beach house.
One button. Two. Then three. Each reveals more of that chiseled chest I've spent hours staring at. He’s honed from years of strict discipline.
"Like what you see?" he teases. The corner of his mouth quirks up in a devilish grin that does unfair things to my stomach.
"Maybe." The word tumbles out. It sounds coy, and bolder than I feel as I drink in the sight of him. His skin is a canvas of smooth planes and hard edges, begging for my touch. My eyes trace the path down from his collarbone to where the fabric still clings to him.
My fingers itch to touch him. I reach out, but he steps back playfully.
"Only maybe?"
"Definitely," I correct myself. “I think my pussy is getting damp.”
My heart races at my own audacity. River’s eyebrows rise. The air between us crackles with anticipation and the promise of what's to come.
I reach out, my hand trembling. My fingers brush against River's newly-bare chest, tracing the hard lines of his pectoral muscles. They are hot to the touch.
His hands encircle my wrists, gentle yet unyielding. There’s a look in his eyes. It’s a glint of raw, primal control that sends a shiver down my spine. He holds up a finger.
“I think we should go into the bedroom.”
Just like that, he picks me up, carrying me as if I weigh nothing at all. He puts me down in his bedroom right in the middle of a big white bed. It looks like a hermit lives in here. Aside from the bed, the only furniture is a bedside table, an ivory-shaded floor lamp, and a half-filled bookcase.
“Your décor style leaves something to be desired,” I say.
“Don’t worry about my room.” River’s lips twitch. He motions to me. “It’s time for me to get you out of that dress, darlin.”
I blush. Getting to my knees, I turn so that the long zipper on the back of my dress faces him. “Unzip me?”
“With pleasure.” He unzips the dress then pulls the straps down. Then he tugs the entire garment free, casting it aside.
I look at it, narrowing my gaze. “River, that is a five thousand dollar dress.”
“It can stand to lie there for a while.” His eyes dip to where my breasts are barely covered by a lacy black bra. “God damn, woman. You’re trying to kill me with those matching bra and panties.”
