Page 118 of A House of Gold
I reach for his underwear instead. "If you stop now, I'll kill you myself."
He laughs, dark and raw, and helps me push his underwear down. Then mine. And then there's nothing between us. Just skin and heat and desperate need.
He pauses, one hand bracing beside me on the desk, the other sliding up my thigh. His gold eyes are pointed at my face even though he can't see it. "This changes everything," he warns. "Once I have you like this, once I claim you, I won't be able to let go."
"I know."
"You'll be mine."
"And you'll be mine." I pull him closer with my legs. "Remember that part. You don't get to own me without me owning you right back."
Something flashes across his face, surprise maybe, or relief. Then he's pushing into me, and the world narrows to this single point of contact.
We both groan at the sensation. He fills me completely, perfectly, like we were designed to fit together this way.
"Move," I demand when he stays still, clearly trying to regain some control. "Croesus, please."
He moves. Pulls almost all the way out, then pushes back in. Slow. Methodical. Like he's learning this too, what I like, what I need.
"Faster," I tell him, my nails digging into his shoulders.
"No." His voice is strained but controlled. "I want to feel every second of this. Want to remember exactly how you feel."
"You're being cruel."
"I'm being thorough." He sets a pace that's maddening, slow and deep and absolutely devastating. Every thrust hits exactly where I need it, building tension until I'm shaking with it.
"Tell me what you need. Tell me what else you want. How I can make you come so hard you’ll never be fuck anyone else.”
"Faster. Harder. Stop being so..." The words dissolve into a gasp as he changes angle. "Oh Gods."
"There?" He does it again. "Is that what you need?"
"Yes, fuck."
He gives me what I asked for then. Picks up the pace, drives into me harder. The desk is cold against my back but I barely notice because he's everywhere, his hands on my hips, his mouth on my neck, his body claiming mine with every thrust.
"Mine," he growls against my throat. "Say it."
"No." I drag my nails down his back hard, digging in, wanting my claim on his equally. "You're mine too. Say it."
"I'm," He groans as I clench around him. "Fuck. I'm yours. Is that what you want to hear?"
"Yes."
"I'm yours. Completely. Devastatingly." His hand slides between us, finding the bundle of nerves that makes gold sparks dance behind my eyelids. "And you're mine. Even if it's just for now. Even if it destroys us both."
The combination of his fingers and his cock and his words is too much. I come apart around him, his name torn from my throat as pleasure crashes through me in waves.
He follows a moment later, my name a curse and a prayer falling from his mouth as he empties himself inside me.
Then it's over.
We're both breathing hard, tangled together on his desk, covered in sweat and scratches and the evidence of what we've done.
Reality crashes back.
Croesus pulls away first, stepping back, putting distance between us. He's still shirtless, his hair disheveled, golden blood drying in scratches across his shoulders.
