Page 63 of Pas de Trois
Raw and wanton.
Seductive.
Attempting to draw out his need to take me.
“Fuck,” he mutters as I wrap my fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand back so I can release his finger from my mouth with a pop before sucking on his middle finger. “I’m always fucking yours. Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” He grins.
I smile at him as I pop out his middle finger. “I’m pregnant and hormonal and sex-starved in a way I never thought possible.”
He groans. “I wanna make you come.”
I let go of his wrist and he drags his hand down my chest, wetness from where I sucked his fingers dragging along my exposed skin. He cups my breast over my dress, and I gasp as my suddenly filthy mind screams at him.
Touch me.
Don’t tease me.
Oh, God, I already need to come.
“Put your mouth on me.”
He leans in to kiss the corner of my lips, wet and languid. “Where, exactly, do you want me to put my mouth?”
I hook one finger through the metal loop at the front of his collar and yank his head down, holding his face close to mine. “Everywhere.”
I kiss him, pushing off the wall, feeling an incessant need to mold my body to his. I reach between us, fumbling to grasp his cock through his jeans before I even make a conscious decision to do it. He shoves me back hard, forcing me against the wall again, pinning me in place as he squeezes my breast.
He only breaks the kiss to whisper against my ear, “Lift your skirt, slip off your panties, and spread your legs for me, blue-eyed girl.”
I gasp at the command. I turn my head to meet his eyes, searching. I have to find my safety net there before I do what he asks. In truth, hearing him tell me what to do, knowing how much he wants me, makes my stomach clench and my clit throb with desire to be touched. Against reason, against all the life lessons I’ve learned in being a slave, I’m actually turned on by his command, by the fact that he has some plan to use my body and I’m not privy to it. This should have me running scared, even from Ezra. But when I look into his eyes, all I see is the way he wants to worship me. And if that weren’t enough, he knows me enough to reassure me. That makes me want him even more.
“I just want to make you come, baby. You’re in control. Always in control. Do you trust me?”
I don’t say yes.
I just reach for the hem of my dress and shimmy it up over my hips. I slide my panties down next, and just as I let them go to drop to the floor, Ezra lowers to his knees. He takes my panties from around my ankles, guiding me to step out of them one foot at a time.
He looks up at me as he fists my underwear in one hand, rolling some of the fabric between his fingers.
“Jesus Christ. These are soaked,” he says and I blush. “Fuck, I wish I could keep these.”
Ezra brings the bunched-up underwear to his nose and inhales, long and deep. I shudder, my spine literally quaking at the sight of it. It’s sinful the way he desires me—dirty, raw, completely, and utterly without shame—and I like it.
I want more like this.
I need this with him.
The confident, sexual woman I used to be before I met Nikolai claws her way to the surface to see Ezra like this. He makes me feel like the only woman in the world.
I spread my legs apart. “Don’t make me wait. Please.”
He pushes out a heavy breath that has a hint of a growl to it as he drops my panties on the floor, his hands splaying over my thighs. I slump against the wall with a whimper as he scoots in close and his hands wrap around to the backs of my legs. I feel another pulse of desire and a gush of wetness flow when his hands cup my ass cheeks, digging his fingers into my flesh, showing me how much he wants me.
He drags my hips forward and my body starts to come off the wall.
“Lean your back against the wall,” he practically snarls at me, his eyes burning dark green with reckless lust. “I’ll put your ass where I need it.”
“Oh,” I breathe out, “Ezra.”
