“Excuse me, Officer, I’m wearing underwear.” She flipped the back of the shirt up to prove it and treated him to a glimpse at her spectacular backside semi-covered by miniscule white panties stretched snug and high across her ass. “See, I have…”
He was out of the bed before she could finish the sentence.
…
One minute she’d been putting clean sweatpants into West’s dresser. The next, a strong arm lassoed her waist and spun her bodily toward the bed. West muttered a prayer or a curse—she couldn’t be sure—before gathering a tangle of bedding and tossing the pile over the footboard. Then he tossed her over as well. She landed with a suddenness that emptied her lungs. It took a second for her world to stop spinning, but once it did, she conducted a quick personal inventory. He had her over the end of his bed with her upper body sprawled across the mattress, her cheek flush against a sheet still warm from his body. Her hormones ignited and desire melted through her, leaving her damp and breathless.
“Christ almighty, Reckless. If this isn’t what you had in mind when you sashayed in here half-naked, speak up now.”
She heard the question in his voice. Despite the display of dominance involved in manhandling her into her current position, despite the palpable amount of male lust looming behind her, or the firm hold of a single rangy hand pinning both of hers together at the small of her back, she heard the question. She’d sashayed in here this morning with a careless mindset. A kid playing with matches, hoping for a dangerous thrill, but instead of a few sparks she’d set off a fire. In him. In her. He was offering her a safe exit, but she didn’t want safe. She’d been smoldering too long. She wanted to burn.
“Please.”
“Please what, Rox?” His sleep-roughened voice contrasted starkly with the gentle touch of one blunt fingertip tracing the curve of the phoenix wings that spanned the lowest part of her back. She couldn’t suppress a shiver. “Please yes, or please no?”
It was possibly the most messed-up decision of her whole messed-up life, but she made it without hesitation. She’d deal with salvaging herself afterward. Her feet found traction on the polished pine floor. She pushed up to her toes so the T-shirt pooled at her waist, baring herself to him as best as she could.
Long fingers sank into her hair, gripped just hard enough to guide her chin up and turn her so she faced the other way, then slid slowly down her spine. Their reflection stared back at her from mirrored closet doors. She saw herself slung over the end of his bed, back arched for another caress.
And him. Lord. Have. Mercy.
She drank that sight in from the ground up—from sturdy feet planted on either side of hers, to long, corded calves and rugged thighs. His ass couldn’t have been more perfect in shape and proportion if Michelangelo himself had carved it from marble. A flex of his hips dug a mouthwatering hollow into the side of his glute. Her attention roved to his cock—thick and jutting from the holster of his fist, the head much closer to her than she’d realized. Close enough to make her sex clench and release with anticipatory quivers. More honed muscles rippled along his abs and ribs, guiding her stare up…up…up. Their eyes met. “Please, yes,” she whispered.
Every ounce of his focus dropped to where their bodies poised to merge. His gaze felt tangible…some new kind of touch she had no ability to withstand. Watching him look at her like this—laid out for the taking—caused another spasm of want deep inside her. Watching him hook his fingers into the back of her panties, feeling the fabric pull tight, brought a needy moan to her throat. She shifted her hips, impatient to be free of the underwear she’d selected this morning without much thought. Had she known when she’d pulled them on that West would assume responsibility for removing them, she might have chosen something classier than white cotton hot-shorts with If you can read this you’re probably going to get laid emblazoned across the back in looping red script. Maybe she would have skipped them altogether like he’d originally assumed. Would he pull them down or simply shove them aside?
Or would he just continue torturing her like this, she wondered, as he worked another moan out of her by testing the give of the fabric. Her moan turned to a startled squeak as one hard, fast tug rent the garment. It landed in a whisper at her feet. The white stood out like a flag of surrender against the dark-stained floor, and for a frantic half second, she wondered if she’d come out of this just as beyond repair. Was she sure she knew what she was doing? But then he guided the wide, smooth head of his cock down the path no longer shielded by anything—classy or otherwise—and her thoughts scattered. Her attention darted back to the mirror, while inner muscles dissolved into a frenzy of flutters.
Chin tucked to his chest, brow furrowed, West lined her up like a pool shot. That wide, smooth head nudged her threshold. Impatience made her push her hips back and intensify the contact.
“You don’t want to rush me, Reckless. Not after inciting me for weeks. The worst of it is you don’t even know how you broke me. You think we’re here because you flashed this ass”—he cupped one cheek and squeezed—“and jiggled
