Page 53 of Reckless Seduction
I am in hell.
This is a special brand of torture just for me. I know it. Seamus knows how to move his body—I am aptly aware of that—and I can’t help but admire his brute strength coupled with what I assume is flawless technique.
I am by no means an expert on self-defense.
Or a real man’s physique.
Drew’s body can be described in one word: limp.
That maybe isn’t the best word choice, but compared to Seamus and Kiernan, he is nothing more than a limp-dick unicorn. He wraps his arms around me in a bear hug from behind, and I bite the inside of my cheek, drawing blood as I try not to think about all his other moves. The ones I orgasm to all night long.
Seamus moves one hand to my throat, hooking it under my chin. We are both sweating pretty good by this point, and I am acutely aware of how his sweaty, muscular body presses up against mine. And it is naked.
Somewhere in the lesson, his shirt has magically disappeared, and I pray to whatever god is listening that it never comes back.
Maybe if I pray hard enough, his pants will magically dissolve too.
My inner hussy is panting with her tongue hanging out, begging me to jump his bones right here and now and just put her out of her misery. Jeez, two days with these men, and I am becoming a sex-crazed maniac. I ignore her rampage, instead focusing on Seamus outlining how I am going to break the chokehold he currently has me in.
“Come on, good girl,” he purrs in my ear, his tongue licking the shell. “Break this hold, and I might just give you a reward.”
Asshole. If I break this hold, I am going to deck him for getting me all wound up.
Hard.
Every single inch of his delicious frameis firmly pressed into my back, rendering me immobile. My hands are wrapped around his forearms, trying to create space for my airway. Our height difference has me on my tiptoes.
A shiver rushesdown my spine as his deep, gravelly voice washes over me. Yep, my inner hussy has passed out from lack of oxygen at this point. I feelthe smug bastard smiling at my reaction.
Oh, it is on like Donkey Kong.
I arch my back, pressing my ass into his crotch. Taken off guard for a moment, he doesn’t see what’s coming next. I slam my heel down onto his foot while simultaneously dropping down to lower my center of gravity. My right elbow rams into his abs—hard—and I have to suppress a groan of pain. I’m convinced it may have hurt me more than it hurt him.
Screw Seamus and his eight-minute abs of steel.
The reaction from him is immediate. He lets out an oomph as he lifts his right foot, his body hunching over as he struggles to regain his breath. His arms loosen against my neck just enough that I’m able to twist and duck, releasing myself from his hold. His mind seems to be catching up with his body now as he lunges at me with his left hand. I sidestep his advance, and using his momentum against him, I grab his outstretched hand, twisting it over my head as I drop down to one knee.
Seamus flips over, landing on his back with a loud slap on the mat. A moment later, I’m straddling his hips, grinding my pelvis down onto his erection.
“I want my reward now,” I pant, running my hands up his chest. “And it better be in orgasms.”
“Fuck,” he growls. His hand grabs the back of my neck, pulling me down to his level, smashing his mouth against mine. This isn’t like the sweet kisses he gave me last night. No, thisis fierce and all-consuming. I run my fingers through his hair, basking in the softness as I pull it from the bun at the back of his head.
Irish hippie.
A gasp tears through me as he tears at my tank top. Literally. The fucker splits it right down the middle of my back. His hands push me to sit up, removing the tattered garment from my body before flipping our positions.
Seamus licks his lips, the sea of emerald in his eyes drowned out by his dilated pupils. He flicks the front clasp of my bra, palming my breasts in his hands. They are warm and calloused, a working man’s hand. My feet crawl up his legs, and I use them to push his sweatpants down, revealing his muscular, shapely legs.
He tears at my leggings, yanking them off my legs in one swift motion before he’s on me again. I wrap my hand around his massive cock, stroking firmly. Seamus groans low in his chest, sounding more animal than man as he feasts on my mouth, exploring every inch.
“Jesus on a pancake,” I moan as he surges his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. He stills, his hair creating a veil around us as he simply gazes down at me.
There’s something in the way he stares at me that causes my core to tighten and my heart to surge painfully. I know in that moment that I’ve fallen for him. My captor. My prison guard. A man I hardly know.
Maybe it’s Stockholm syndrome.
Or maybe I’m just rebounding.
