Page 1 of Seein’ Red

1

WILLA

“Yes! Right there. Don’t stop. Please…don’t…stop…”

Teeth graze across my nipple, the calloused thumb circling my clit slowing down despite my pleas. Bastard.

I circle my hips, trying to pick up the pace, chasing the euphoria I know is within reach. If only he would stop teasing me.

“Not yet, Princess.”

He chuckles, the vibrations ripping through me as his mouth closes in on my breast. I am the center of his attention, every inch of me on display and at his whim, ready and willing to do whatever it takes to reach the peak.

He knows it too.

“I have plans for you.”

Oh, fuuuuck…

Plans. He has plans. As in plural.

A shudder runs through me, that damn thumb changing things up again. I’m so on edge, all my nerves hovering right there, ready to snap. Everything in me is like that arcade coin pusher game—pleasure swiping back and forth, back and forth but never actually tumbling.

“You look so beautiful like this, all splayed out on your fluffy lilac bedspread, hair a mess, wanton and desperate.”

Grabbing ahold of my wrists, he slides up my body, lifting up my arms, his tongue roving in between my breasts and over my clavicle. I sink deeper into the bed, my hands pinned above my head, enjoying the weight of him on me. He kisses me deeply, my hips jutting upward, trying to make contact.

Contact I so desperately need, but can’t quite find.

The friction of his jeans against my hot, sensitive skin pulls a moan from me. He swallows it with his kiss, not letting up for a single second. Instead, he meets my hips with his, a slow gyration aimed at drawing out the tease.

Fuck, do I hate him.

“Don’t make me beg.”

“I like when you beg. A lot.”

Kissing me again, this time even harder, he picks up the pace of his hips. Thank God.

I spread my legs wider, giving him room. Dry humping is not the way I thought this was going to go, but at this point I don’t care. Whatever gets me there. Even if it’s a method I thought was reserved for inexperienced teenagers in the backseat of cars.

But then he stops.

Full-on stops.

No. No, no, no, no, no…

Pushing off of me, he smirks. A devilishly handsome smirk, paired with a wink that is enough to make me require a slippery when wet sign. Given how amped up I am, I’m surprised I didn’t come just from that.

Time slows as he reaches behind his neck, tugs at his shirt, and lifts it over his head, revealing his chiseled torso. It slows even more as he flicks open the button of his jeans, sliding them over those solid, tree-trunk thighs. His navy blue boxer briefs cling to him like a second skin, showing off every little thing.

Not that there is anything little about him.

Nope. Nothing at all.

To the point that those boxer briefs are barely containing the bulge he’s packing, the fabric so strained that it’s practically screaming, wanting to give way.

I lick my lips, my mouth watering, aching to touch it. I might not be able to stand the man outside of the bedroom, but inside it, he has a hold on me I cannot explain.