Page 17 of A Wilde Christmas
“Good,” she said, her tone sweet as honey. “You’re learning.”
He watched her every move, his eyes never leaving hers as she climbed onto the bed.
His cock bobbed in response, begging for attention. She ran a teasing finger lightly over it, earning a choked curse from him. This was control; this was power.
“You’re playing with fire, Bristow,” he warned, his voice thick with suppressed lust.
“On the contrary, Wilde.” She trailed her fingers lower to play with his balls. “Iamthe fire.”
She straddled him and dangled the string of lights over his head, her eyes meeting his with a challenge.
He responded by jerking his hips upward, seeking friction that she refused to provide. He growled low in his throat, a feral sound that sent a thrill of desire ripping through her again. He was dangerous and untamed, but she held the reins...
...and the Christmas lights.
“You’re insane,” he breathed.
“Yet here you are,” she retorted, tossing her hair over her shoulders and meeting his gaze directly. “Ready to let me tie you up.”
His muscles tensed in protest underneath her fingertips, but he still let her raise one hand to his headboard and then the other. She looped the lights through the iron bars and expertly knotted them around his wrists. Then, to get into the holiday spirit, she leaned over the side of the bed and plugged the lights into a nearby outlet. They cast a soft, multicolored glow over his naked body and shadows across his hard face, highlighting those incredibly blue eyes.
Davey tested the bonds, and a muscle ticked in his jaw as he found them secure. His gaze found hers again, the challenge still present but now tinged with anticipation.
“Feel free to scream my name, Wilde,” she purred, sliding herself along the length of him.
A gruff laugh rumbled from him, and he shook his head. “Not happening.”
But there was a slight hitch in his voice that told her otherwise.
She trailed her hands down his chest to his cock. His breath hitched at her touch, and his hands fisted around the lights.
Her other hand went to his balls, teasing them and evoking a deep growl from him. She moved her fingers down more, exploring every inch of him before finally, she took hold of his pulsing length.
She was in control, and she reveled in it. The way she was driving him crazy, the whispered curses he muttered when she squeezed his cock at the base. The way he strained against the Christmas lights holding him to the headboard.
She moved on top of him then, positioning him at her entrance before slowly sliding down onto him, the sensation making them both gasp out loud. He filled her completely, stretched her deliciously.
For a moment, they just stayed like that—Rowan seated on Davey with his arms tied above his head, both panting andlost in the sensation. She skimmed her hands down his chest, enjoying the play of muscles beneath her touch. Davey watched her with hooded eyes, his gaze heated by lust and something else— something dark that sent a thrill of anticipation through her.
Her lips curved. “Tell me you’re not liking this.”
The bed creaked beneath them as she rode him, and the Christmas lights flickered with their movements, casting a riot of kaleidoscope colors over their tangled bodies.
“Damn you, Rowan,” he grated out. His fingers curled around the strings of lights, white-knuckled as she moved on him. “You’ll pay for this.”
“That’s a promise?” she asked breathlessly before leaning down to nip at his chest.
But Davey just groaned and thrust up into her, hitting a spot inside her that made her see stars. She leaned back, bracing herself against his thighs while driving herself onto him, rubbing against that spot over and over again until she was gasping and shaking.
Davey was no longer even attempting to hide his pleasure. His head tipped back against the pillow, a low growl rumbling from his throat as he strained against the twinkling lights binding him.
She readjusted herself, experimenting with angles until she found the one that made him nearly bite through his lower lip, his eyes rolling back into his head. The look on his face was enough to send a wave of pleasure coursing through her. He was utterly lost in the sensation, in her, every ounce of his Navy SEAL training seemingly forgotten.
He. Was. Hers.
“I really fucking hate you,” he rasped, the words choked out between clenched teeth. Then he came hard and hot, spilling inside her with a ragged shout that throbbed through her entire body.
Rowan couldn’t help but let out a triumphant laugh. It made sense that with Davey—the most stubborn, difficult man she’d ever met—pleasure and victory were entwined.
