Page 144 of Cold Mercy

He carries me upstairs, but instead of turning to the bedroom, he steps inside the game room where all between us started.

I feel the shift in his energy, the way his muscles coil as he walks straight to the pool table and sets me on the edge of the slate. He steps between my legs, and my breath hitches as his hands slide up my bare thighs, his touch burning through my skin.

“You look too perfect sitting there,” he murmurs, with his voice low and rough. “I think I need to wreck you just to make sure you’re real.”

Fuck. I'm completely lost in him. He drops to his knees, his hands fisting my calves before sliding upward to cup my hips. I watch him for a heartbeat, fascinated by the intensity in his eyes, before I let my head fall back and surrender to the feeling of him. He presses a soft kiss to my inner thigh, and then his thumbs move high to part me. An involuntary gasp breaks from my lips, my fingers trailing in his dark hair as I arch into him.

“Fuck, Thomas,” I breathe, my hips bucking with a need i can no longer control, as his tongue finds my wetness.

He is relentless, his tongue circling and devouring me until I'm shaking, until the world is nothing but the pressure and heat of his mouth.

He doesn't give me long to even recover from his tongue before he stands up, looking breathless and starving. His eyes are dark with a desire that makes me want to give him everything I have left.

“Stand up,” he commands, and I obey with a dazed smile, my legs unsteady as I face him.

The leather snap echoed in the quiet room as he undid his belt. He pulls it free, never breaking eye contact, and wraps it around his hand.

“Give me your wrists.”

I don't hesitate, not even for a second, because the idea of being held by him, of submitting to him…It feels like a need. I hold them out, wrists pressed together, and I smile at him through the haze of my desire. He wraps the leather around my wrists, binding them tight.

“Brace for me, princess,” he commands with a smirk on his face. I run tongue over my teeth with a wicked smile and turn around to lean over the table.

I stretch my bound wrists out across the green felt, arching my back to the point of pain, and I hear his breath catch behind me.

“I’m going to show you exactly how much I missed you,” he growls against my ear, while he enters me in one smooth, deep thrust.

I cry out, a shattered, high-pitched sound that echoes as he buries himself to the hilt inside me.

I scream as he slams into me, his cock burying itself to the hilt in one brutal motion that makes my vision go white for a split second. He doesn't even give me a single second to find my bearings; he sets a relentless pace, his body crashing mine until the entire table rattles violently against the wall.

I'm lost in the pure, visceral force of his need, drowning in the heat and the sheer size of him. God, I fucking love it. I want him to take me all. I want to be owned by him, handled, and used until there is nothing left of me that isnt his.”

He stops, and I can feel my body shaking everywhere with the effort to stay still. He turns me around, his hand still fisting in my hair, and he reaches for the neckline of my dress, ripping the silk downward until it splits open. I stand there, wrecked and naked.

I reach for him, my bound hands tapping his chest, feeling the uneven thrum of his heart.

“A little unfair,” I pant, looking at the dark fabric of his shirt. “You’re still dressed.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second, and I see what's making him pull back. I lean into his space, my breath ghosting over his jaw as I look straight into his eyes.

“We both have them, that just makes us equals,” I whisper.

He pulls the shirt over his head in one fluid motion, revealing the kind of body that should be considered a felony. God, those v-lines leading into his waistband are pure, unadulterated torture, and especially with the scars, he is the most handsome man I have ever seen.

“Better, sweetheart?” he asks.

I bite my lip, turning my eyes back to his.

“You have no idea how much better,” I whisper.

I push him backward, my bound hands pressing against the heat of his bare chest as I guide him toward the leather couch. He obeys, sinking into the cushions, and I climb onto his lap, looping my arms over his head to settle them around his neck. I sink down slowly, taking every inch of him, until I'm fully seated, and I hear him groan while in that moment he grabs me by the back of my neck and pulls me toward him, sticking his tongue in my mouth.

We move together in a slow rhythm, my hips rising and falling as I grind against him. He breaks our kiss, his hands gripping my hips so hard I already feel marks that will appear there tomorrow.

“Shit,” he grits out. “Keep doing that, and I’m going to come inside you.”

I look up at him, my eyes wide. I just realized how much I want this. How much I need this.