Page 31 of The Secret
“You feel amazing,” I whisper, wriggling and giggling, and his fingers dig in to the point of pain.
The elevator shudders to a grinding stop, and he steps out into the hallway as I incline my head to the right. The apartment door is still ajar from my crazy race down the stairs, and he kicks it wider, stepping into our open-plan lounge.
“Left. Second door,” I gasp as he strides down the corridor, shouldering through my bedroom door and tossing me onto the bed.
Big hands land on my stomach and peel my pajama pants down, leaving me naked from the waist down. And he’s a vision standing here staring down at me, his khaki shorts and his sleeves rolled up like he just stepped out of the African bush. The hard outline of him beneath the fabric. He scans the room.
“Nice apartment. I’m looking forward to laying waste to you on a proper bed at last.”
He grabs the bottom of his shirt and wrenches it over his head. The smattering of blond on his chest and the trail of hair down his stomach are dappled in the light seeping around the blinds.I want. I want. I want.His hands go to the buttons on his shorts.
“I want to do that,” I say.
“Come and undress me then,” he says, stilling.
So I push myself up, walking across the covers on my knees, breathing quietly as I kneel in front of him and examine his muscly arms, tight shoulders, and perfect nipples. Memories bloom of watching him lift wood and bags of cement on the build, sweat running down his torso, wanting to follow the trails of water with my tongue.Maybe I spent the last five months in a sexual haze.
Bending down, I press my lips once against his happy trail where his shorts have slipped down, feeling the hitch in his breath through his tightening stomach. His eyes track me everywhere. And I don’t want to touch him with my hands; I want to worship him another way. I straighten to kiss him, but veer off at the final second to his shoulder, working my way across his collarbone with my lips, around the base of his neck to the other side. His hands hang loose at his sides like he’s enjoying the show, chest rising and falling, not touching, the tension building in his body like a spring about to explode. My breath comes out on a huff—he often surprised me when he pinned me down.
He touches my throat lightly with his finger, trailing it down my throat to the hollow between my breasts, pushing down my sleep shirt, his knuckle grazing the curve.
“So, fucking hot,” he says, voice hoarse, his stare a laser down the front of my top.
The finger moves from my neckline across the checked fabric to my nipple, flicking upward, making a zing of heat run down to my sex.So sensitive.
“I’m feeling a little crazy right now,” he admits on a groan.
I laugh-gasp at this, already wet and aching.
“I want my hand between your legs, followed by my mouth; but really I just want to”—he sucks in a long breath—“think about doing all of that to you first.”
The way he talks about sex before and during, the way he talks about me, my body, is a revelation. I sink my teeth into his pec below his shoulder, and he growls, properly this time, like a dog, so I bite harder. Give me some action.Surprise me, Dan.
“Fuck!” He says, not moving.
Crawling my hand up and under his shorts, I tease the rough hairs on the outside of his thigh, then slide around to the inside. This isn’t easy. His shorts fit him too well, and his thighs are strong and muscly, but my fingers eventually find their way up, grazing the hot skin between his legs. When my thumb rubs back and forth, he grinds his teeth.
Why is he standing still?I trail my other hand down over his buttock in a soft caress. Biting my lip, I lift my hand up and bring it down with a hard crack. His hips jerk forward as he grabs my waist, and I shriek as he spins me and pins me down on my front in the bed, one hand twisted behind my back, his other hand spanning my bare ass cheek, squeezing painfully.
“Do you want to play rough, Liss?” he says, breath hot on my ear, using his size to keep me pinned down, knees straddling my pelvis. The heat of his erection presses into my ass right next to his hand.Holy shit. I move my hips to ease the ache, slippery at the top of my thighs.
“Please,” I choke out.
This gets me a sharp nip on my earlobe. “Are you begging, Liss?”
His mouth trails down my neck and around until his teeth are at my nape, biting in, his weight pushing me farther into the sheets. I’m reminded of lions mating, how they hold on to the female from behind. Fire races through my blood, and a moan slips out as he shifts against my buttocks, pressing his cock into me.
“Answer the question.”
“I want you to …”
“Liss.” His voice is a stern reprimand.
“I want you inside me,” I gasp, desperately dragging in air as he crushes me.
He chuckles. “You’re going to have to wait. You dished something out, and you need to accept the consequences.”
His big hand squeezes my ass, and in my mind’s eye I imagine his long fingers, the short nails, the tension in his grip. Despite the bruising throb of it, his thumb is absent-mindedly brushing the crease at the top of my thigh, and every time he comes close, I tighten up inside—the burning hold mirroring the building ache radiating down my legs.
