Page 57 of Deep (Chicago Underground 8)
Oh shit.
Then he pressed his mouth against me—and this was no kiss. Not even a lick. This was an invasion of his tongue, thrusting hard into my channel. My whole body clenched tight with the strain of staying still, my thighs trembling. I was still bent over the sofa, but he pushed me lower, and my arms dropped from the back of the seats to the cushions below.
“You taste so fucking good,” he said, his voice rough. “How could I stop now? How could I let you go now that I know how you taste?”
He curled his tongue around my clit in an evil caress, driving me closer to the edge. One hand held my hip steady; with the other he pushed two fingers inside me.
“I’m coming,” I whispered, face pressed tight to my arms, fighting it, losing.
A sharp slap against my hip pulled me back. “Not until I tell you to.”
I moaned a protest, and he just laughed—but it was unsteady, as if he felt the same thrill inside him that I did, the sensation of finally having something I had always wanted, the rush to feel everything I had dreamed about before it was snatched away again.
The sound of a zipper ripped through the air. I wanted to see him, touch him. Taste him the way he had tasted me. But I knew I could only take what he gave me, only stay where he put me.
Something blunt and hot nudged my sex. “Mine,” he whispered darkly.
No condom.
And maybe I wouldn’t have noticed if we had been in that alley at night or even the shadowed backseat of his SUV. It would have all seemed perfectly surreal, completely surreal—like a dream, the edges blurred and dark.
Except the moonlight streamed in from tall windows and spongy carpet squeezed between my toes and the silky fabric felt as smooth as water underneath my hands. This was all too real, too luxurious and lush to have come from my imagination. I wasn’t made for this world, so sharp and bright, built from Philip’s cold heart and iron will. My body was too soft
, my skin too thin. And I could lose too much.
“Wait,” I said hoarsely.
He sounded like his teeth were clenched. “You have five seconds to give me a good reason why I should—and then I’ll be so deep in you, you won’t be able to think anymore.”
“Protection,” I burst out. “We need protection.”
There was a pause. A softly spoken curse.
And then he did something that made me burn. Hips thrust forward. His cock pressed inside me, slowly, inexorably. Hands spanning my waist held me still.
“What are you doing? Philip!”
“No, kitten,” he said low. “You don’t get to decide. Not where and not how. Not even this. If I want to fuck you until you’re full of my seed, you can’t stop me. Can you?”
A note of challenge edged his voice, as if he wanted me to fight him—but he was right about one thing. He was so deep inside me, I couldn’t think. Couldn’t think about the right words to make him understand. Couldn’t think about all the implications of this act. Couldn’t think of anything except being full of him, his thick cock pulsing against my walls. My body spasmed in response, a question that was answered when he pulled back and thrust in again—no mercy. No time to grow used to him. My body was forced to stretch around him.
A faint panic thrummed underneath my arousal, muted beneath the sensations of his body in mine. “Wait. We shouldn’t… You don’t want…”
Another slap against my hip, and I yelped. “Don’t tell me what I want,” he said roughly. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you asleep in my house, like a fucking present Shelly had brought me.”
I made a rough sound of denial.
“You think that’s fucked up?” he asked, pulling out and thrusting back in again. “Because it only made me hotter to think about you like that, that she’d picked you out just for me. That I could do anything I wanted to you, because you were already mine.”
Tension coiled deep inside, past hurts colliding with cruel pleasure. “Why wait then?”
With another man I would have known the answer. I’d been underage then. A broken little girl. But Philip didn’t have morals like other people. If he wanted something, he took it.
“I don’t know,” he said, his breath turning short, labored. “Sometimes I thought I would let you go. Sometimes I wondered if that’s what it meant to care about someone, letting them go.”
But he was deep inside me now, his cock pressing farther and faster on every thrust.
His hand fisted in my hair and pulled me up so that my back was flush against his chest, neck exposed to the room as he tilted my head to the side. He spoke against my neck, pressing openmouthed kisses down the line and across my shoulder. “I couldn’t leave you alone, though. Couldn’t stop watching you, couldn’t stop touching my cock and imagining you sucking it.”
