Page 18 of Cross Me

But his mouth smothered mine once more. He didn’t want to talk. Maybe he knew that we were about to have the fight of our lives. Maybe we needed to get this out of the way. Sex drove Alexander. I had always known that. I had always responded to it, as well. Even now, knowing this was the storm before the hurricane, I didn’t want him to stop.

Alexander dropped to his knees, his hands bunching the fabric of my skirt at my hips. “Christ, Poppet. No knickers?”

I dared to look down at him. His eyes blazed into me, white hot and furious, his face hovering over my bare sex.

Oh, was he pissed.

I did my best to sound nonchalant. “I don’t go into battle unprepared.”

“You knew how I would react?” The words grated out, his breath hot on my skin. “You knew I would need to claim you—take you—and you came prepared? We are not through discussing this.”

Before I could think of how to response, his mouth closed over me. There was no love in the act, only blind, driving need. He was wild. He was out of control. I had pushed him past a breaking point I didn’t know he had. His tongue parted me, accessing every part of me. He devoured me, driving my body toward climax, taking my pleasure. It was primal—somehow terrifying and thrilling at the same time. My fingernails scratched across the papered walls, seeking purchase and finding none.

Usually, Alexander was my anchor, the center that kept me tethered, no matter what his body asked of mine. Something had shifted now. The hold he had on me was no longer a tether but a leash. He was binding me, asserting his ownership. I felt my muscles tighten, my body responding to his attack even as my mind warred against it. I cracked apart, his name on my lips, and my thighs closing around his head. It was too much. Too fast. He kept going, and I pushed against him until he vanished.

I clung to the wall, and his strong arms bracketed me, his still-clothed body pressing against mine. I felt his cock, hard against my belly, as his lips danced across my jaw and paused to whisper in my ear, “You know what to say to make me stop.”

My safe word would end this. All I had to say was brimstone. It was a reminder I didn’t need. Instead, my hand flew, slapping him hard across the face.

His face snapped to the side, and his eyes stayed on the ground a moment before he shook his head slightly. He turned back to me with a wicked smile. “Wrong answer, Poppet.”

I surged forward, my lips finding his. He met me, his arms lifting me off my feet and carrying me to our bed. My dress came off entirely, followed by my bra. I bucked against him, wanting him and hating him for it at the same time. He dropped me on to the mattress, and my fingers fumbled with his buttons and his tie as Alexander shucked off his jacket. It fell to the floor in a heap.

I couldn’t get him undressed fast enough. He reached down, pulling off his belt and unfastening his pants. My feet found his hips, pushing down the last barrier between us. I didn’t even see his cock before it was inside me. My body arched at the sudden intrusion.

There was no gentle pause to prepare me. He was there, pounding into me with strong, fast strokes. He clutched my hips, rocking them in a desperate rhythm. His eyes darkened as he watched where our bodies collided. I seized my chance before he could release. Hooking an arm around his neck, I threw my weight against him, knocking him off his feet. He fell to the bed and we rolled over one another until I found myself on top. Without waiting, I slammed over him, yelping as his length speared me to the core. Alexander paused, concern flitting over his face, but I didn’t stop. My hips circled and ground, pushing him towards his orgasm. His hand reached to brush my breast, but I forced him down, holding his chest with my hands. I was the one in charge now and he needed to see that. Two of us could play this game. He could drive me crazy, too. I needed him to see that no matter how much I gave him, I could take it back.

“Tell me, X. Tell me what you want me to do.” I bit out, my demand coming in quick, frantic bursts.

His hands caught the bedsheets as he grunted and thrusted, trying to match my movements. “Fuck me, Clara. Fuck me.”

“Who do you belong to?” I asked him, lifting myself to the tip of his cock and hovering there. He strained, trying to slide inside me once more, but I held firm.

“You,” he said darkly. “I belong to you.” I plunged over him, lost to his words.

The first hot spurt of his climax undid me and he threw himself free of my imprisonment, rising to catch my waist so that, in the end, we fell together. He pressed a kiss to my lips, our breathing still shallow and rushed.

“That was very wicked of you, Poppet.” His words were low and dangerous, but the rage in his eyes had cooled. He brushed a strand of hair from my forehead and took a deep breath. “You’re wicked.”

“I’m yours,” I breathed.

“Yes, you’re my wicked queen.” He brushed his mouth over mine. “I get the feeling you’re trying to prove something to me.”

“I could say the same thing,” I said dryly. Had he forgotten where this had started? With me pressed against a wall as he forced me to come on his mouth? “I belong to you, X. You seem to keep forgetting that.”

“Maybe I just wanted a reminder,” he suggested.

I trailed my hand down his face, lingering where I had slapped him. He turned into my hand, kissing my palm. I guess that meant I was forgiven for that indiscretion.

“Sometimes I need you to remind me when I’m being an ass,” he muttered.

“Does that mean you’re not mad at me?” I asked. Not that I cared if he was. He might be mad, but he was also in trouble. We’d gotten sex out of the way. Now it was time for the fight. I braced myself.

Alexander bit his lower lip, his eyes darting up and then away. “I’m still mad, but I think that makes two of us.”

“Are we going to talk about it or are we going to fuck it out?”

“Is that an option?” He dropped a playful kiss to my shoulder.