Page 104 of You Make Me Feel
I move without thinking, my legs shaky as I back up until the edge of the mattress hits the backs of my knees. I sink onto it, my breath shallow, my pulse racing. And I’m so aware that this is exactly what I need.
For him to talk, for me to obey. At least until we both want it to stop.
Oh, I love this man.
Ohmygod what? I love him? The thought makes my chest tighten. I promised I wouldn’t get feelings. And yet here I am, all in my feels.
He follows me with a slow, deliberate stride that makes my stomach twist, his eyes fixed on me in a way that feels dangerous. Wanted. Claimed. He stops right in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head up to keep looking at him. Close enough that I forget how to breathe.
And then he unbuckles his belt. His strong fingers flick at his button, before he opens his fly, then slideshis hand into his boxers, his hand curling around his thick hardness, as he lets out a soft breath.
His eyes don’t leave mine as he touches himself, like he’s daring me to look away. I don’t. I can’t. My mouth goes dry and my thighs press together, heat pooling between them.
He’s hard already, thick and heavy in his grip, and the way he strokes himself makes something low in my belly tighten. Then he steps closer, close enough that I can smell him, feel the heat of his skin.
“Get on your knees,” he says, his voice dark and rough.
Without hesitation, I do exactly as he asks. Falling to the ground in front of him, my fingers wrapping around the thick length of him as he groans low in his throat.
I glance up, just once, catching the raw heat in his eyes before I lean in and close my lips around him, giving him exactly what he asked for.
His cock is hot and smooth against my tongue, the weight of him heavy in my mouth, filling me in a way that makes my body clench. Something about the sound he makes as I take him deeper sends a pulse of heat straight through me.
His hand slides into my hair, firm and possessive, guiding my movements with slow, deliberate pressure. He doesn’t force, doesn’t rush, but there’s a tension in him that I can feel in every tremble of his muscles, in every barely-there grunt that escapes his throat.
“Look at you,” he murmurs. “On your knees like a good little girl. Your mouth full of cock. Do you like how hard you make me?”
I hum around him, and his grip on my hair tightens.
“Bet you’ve been thinking about this all day. Wearingthose little shorts like you wanted me to see. You wanted to be caught, didn’t you?”
I nod, because yes, I really did. I wanted him. I wanted him mean and angry. I wanted him hard in my mouth.
And I have it.
He thrusts slowly, deliberately. “That’s it, good girl, take me. God, your mouth was made for this. For me.”
I press my thighs together, letting out a moan against him. His fingers press harder against my scalp, his breath hissing between his teeth. “Yeah, that’s it. Keep making those sounds. Let me hear how much you love it.”
He rocks his hips like he can’t restrain himself. “After this,” he says softly, “I’m going to take you like you belong to me.”
I do, I think.I do belong to you.
He lets out a soft groan, then pulls out of my mouth. His chest rises rapidly, his jaw tight, and there’s something new in his eyes. Something so soft I could get lost in it.
“Get on the bed,” he tells me. “I need to see you. All of you.”
The words hit deeper than they should. Because they’re not cruel. Not part of the game. They’re raw. Almost vulnerable.
Without hesitating, I do exactly what he says. Climbing back onto the bed, my legs spreading for him. And for a second, he stares at me like he can’t tear his eyes away.
Then he climbs onto the bed, his body hovering over mine as his hands slide up my thighs, parting them with a reverence that doesn’t match how rough he was minutes ago.
I suck in a breath, my legs trembling as he settles between them, his mouth pressing soft kisses along the inside of my knee. Then higher. My heart stutters when hepauses, his lips grazing my hip. He looks up, his eyes on mine, and I swear the whole world stops.
“Pretend you want me,” he murmurs, voice raw and ragged. “Pretend you need me.”
I think about telling him I don’t need to pretend. But it’s too terrifying. I can’t think anymore, anyway, because he’s pulling my shorts down, his fingers tracing the seam of my inner thighs, slow and deliberate.
