Page 16 of A Wilde Christmas
“Are you sure you’re done with me? You better be sure because if you take me home, Dad will lock me in his compound, and we won’t be able to do this anymore.” She dipped her fingers between her legs. She was sore and didn’t know how she’d survive another round of mind-blowing sex, but Davey couldn’t turn her over if he were too busy fucking her. So, she had to keep him in bed. It was risky, but it was the only card she had left to play.
He all but devoured her with his eyes, and his erection stood straight out from his body as if reaching for her.
Gotcha, she thought and let out a breathy moan as her fingers brushed her oversensitive clit. It wasn’t entirely an act. She was hot and too sensitive, and dammit, she might come just from the way he watched her. She wanted him again. Badly.
“So… are you done with me, Wilde?”
He dropped the towel and stalked toward her. “No.”
His voice was gravelly as he prowled closer, his eyes darkened with need. He leaned over her, arms on either side of her head, his chest barely centimeters away from her breasts. His heated breath fanned across her face as he lowered his head to whisper near her ear.
“Not by a long shot, Bristow.” His words were a promise and a challenge, all wrapped into one.
But Rowan was ready to take him on. She raked her gaze down his body, lingering on the hard lines of his muscle, the golden hair sprinkled over his chest, and his arousal straining for her.
She smirked, spreading her legs in a silent invitation. “I didn’t think so.”
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Then there was no more talking,no room for anything but the heat of his mouth on hers and the feel of him moving inside her. And for a moment, she could forget again. For a moment, she could pretend she wasn’t on the run, that this was just an enthralling tangle of bodies and emotions between two people drawn together by magnetic attraction.
Her fingers traveled up his back, tracing the pattern of scars and muscle. His thrusts were not gentle, but they were not harsh either. They were relentless and sure, riding her hard and fast, pushing her toward that precipice of pleasure again.
He was going to shatter her.
She needed to take control back.
She locked her legs around him and rolled, flipping him on his back with a thud that shook the bed. His eyes widened in surprise, but there was a wicked gleam of approval in them, too.
She leaned down, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders and brushing against his chest. Her lips found his, her tongue teasing against his as she set a rhythm that had him grasping at the sheets beneath them, his powerful muscles straining.
“Rowan,” he groaned, reaching up to grab her hips as if trying to regain control. But she didn’t let him.
She rode him hard, serving her own needs, her nails digging into his chest. His muscles bulged under her touch, his breath growing ragged as she took him closer and closer to the edge. She licked a line down his throat, nipping at the skin over his thundering pulse before moving back up to capture his mouth with hers.
“You’re killing me,” he breathed out against her lips.
She felt his hands on her back then, sliding upwards to take hold of her hair. He pulled just enough to tilt her head back and expose her throat, which he immediately started to trail with hot, open-mouthed kisses that made her whimper.
Dammit. He was stealing control again.
No.
She had to break the routine and shift the balance. Quick, before he completely turned the tables and had her tucked under him again.
She raked her nails down his chest, delighting in the hiss of pleasure-pain that escaped him. His grip on her hair tightened, but she ignored the sting, pressing her hand against his chest and using it as leverage to rise and fall on him in a punishing rhythm.
Her name tore from his lips again and again until she thought she could live forever off just that, off being the one thing that could shatter the control of Davey Wilde, the one thing that could bring him to his knees.
“Rowan.” His hands dropped from her hair to grip her thighs. His corrugated abs bunched like he was about to roll her, but she was ready, shifting her weight and sliding off him before he could pin her beneath him once more. Her feet hit the cold hardwood floor, and she easily evaded his reach.
“Not so fast,” she warned, swatting his hand away. She watched as he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes blazing with frustration. “You’ve lost your privileges. Unless…” An idea struck. She walked over to the box of Christmas decorations in the corner of his room and pulled out a string of lights. “Unless... you’re up for something a bit kinky.”
He studied her with narrowed eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to regain control of his breathing.
She merely smirked, coiling the lights around her hand. “What, don’t trust me?”
“Not for a fucking minute.”
