Page 19 of Bound in Ashes

The barely leashed control.

The way his jaw clenched when his fingers brushed my soft stomach.

He rested there, his hand curved against my belly, holding like he was afraid I would disappear.

“That was so fucking stupid,” he said, his voice low, rough.

“Maybe.”

He met my eyes, his expression one of outrage.

“No maybe. It was stupid.” His fingers tightened and his chest heaved with his breaths, his eyes wide. “Don’t do that again.”

Before I could respond, he pushed my pants down my hips and slid his hand into my underwear.

Found me so fucking wet, I should have been embarrassed.

I was embarrassed but too prideful to look away, especially when he lifted one corner of his mouth. “Jesus, you’re soaked. My pussy missed me.”

I arched but managed to say, “You don’t have a pussy here, Jackson.”

He circled my clit once, twice. “Don’t I?”

He circled again and my hips moved in time to the rhythm he set. “Maybe.”

He huffed out a dark laugh. “Liar. This pussy knows exactly who it belongs to.” Then he pushed two fingers inside of me.

Deep.

I gripped his shoulders, and he huffed his satisfaction.

Then he moved his fingers. Slow. Deliberate.

Torturing me.

Bending my body to his will.

“Jack, please⁠—”

“Please what?” His thumb found my clit, and I rocked against him.

“You know,” I panted.

He stilled, his eyes focused on me. “Not good enough, Counselor.”

“You’re such an asshole,” I grunted.

He arched his brow. Pulled out his fingers.

Left me empty.

Wanting.

I grabbed his wrist. “Please, Jack. More.”

He smirked. “Good girl.”

Then he slammed into me, filling me.