“Tonight, my bed is your bed. Get some rest. I’m going to clean up.”

I lay there, watching him leave and close the door behind him. Okay, that was not how I envisioned this playing out. My chest was still heaving with anticipation when I heard the shower come on. Frustrated, I turned over onto my belly and buried my face in his pillows. Of course, they’d have to smell of him, and of course that only functioned to raise my frustration levels even higher. I’d just washed, but I could feel that I was wet between my legs. My clit begged for his mouth, my nipples aching for him to do that thing with the match again.

Jack had said that was child’s play, and already I felt like I was ruined for sex with anyone else.

Despite my frustration, it had been a long day, and I began to grow drowsy, my heavy eyelids falling closed. I’d almost nodded off when I heard the door open and shut with a soft click. Suddenly, I was wide awake as I listened to Jack turn off the lamp, shrouding the room in darkness before I heard the scraping flick of a match, the sizzling blaze of the flame. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him light two expensive-looking candles that sat on the bedside dresser, and I swear every single muscle in my body tensed. All he wore was a pair of black lounge pants.

I pretended to be sleeping when he turned to look at me, and a low chuckle vibrated from his chest. That sound was going to be my undoing one of these days. “I can hear your breathing, Lille. I know you’re not asleep.” The mattress dipped down as he sat at the foot of the bed.

“I was about to be,” I mumbled into the pillow, “until your loud elephant feet clomped into the room and woke me.”

He continued laughing, low and quiet, and then I jumped a little when he took my bare foot into his hands. His fingers found just the right spot to rub, and I moaned involuntarily. God, that felt good.

“You’re wound up tight, flower,” Jack whispered as his hands slowly began to make their way to my ankle, then my calf. It was like he knew every muscle and chord intimately, knew just how to rub to turn me into a melting pile of hormones and need.

Before I knew it, he was kneeling between my legs and massaging my thigh as I made loud and very embarrassing noises that the pillows did nothing to muffle. His deft fingers were so close to my vagina that I had to bite down on said pillow just to keep from grabbing his hand and placing it where I wanted him to touch me the most.

“Your skin,” he said, and his voice sounded pained. “Your fucking skin.”

His fingers skimmed over the rise of my arse, then fluttered feather light less than a centimetre from my folds. Touch me, my mind begged, God, Jack, please touch me.

He emitted a long, agonised groan before he pushed the towel off me, and then his mouth was on my arse cheek, biting. I let out a strangled yelp as he nuzzled where he’d bitten with the tip of his nose. I felt his hand move, and then his fingers were trailing across my wet lips, giving no pressure at all. He was trying to torture me.

“Please,” I begged, and he grunted, nipping my cheek again with his sharp teeth, then rising up and pulling the towel off me completely. I was naked, and I could feel the soft cotton of his pants brush my skin as he bent over me and palmed my bottom.

“Seeing this every day kills me, do you know that?” he growled, and I shook with the pleasure of his deep voice and heated words.

“I need….”

“Tell me what you need, flower.”

“I need you to touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

“Somewhere else.”

A smirk. “In time.”

His hand went to my shoulder and lightly caressed the skin. My tattoo was almost healed, and his touch reminded me I had it. Since it was in a place I couldn’t easily see, I often forgot it was even there.

“Your ink is beautiful,” he murmured, and his fingers danced along a particular spot. “This is the part I filled in. I feel so fucking proud when I see it, like you have my name on you or something.”

I sighed, my every pore tingling with his possessive words. Then I felt his weight leave the bed, and a moment later he was back, straddling me as I lay on my stomach. I didn’t know what he was doing until I felt something hot and wet brand the base of my spine.

“Ahhh,” I cried out. “What was that?” My words were more air than sound as I felt him harden and lengthen against my bottom.

The burn hit me again, right on the cusp of too much and not enough. It stung, but, combined with my heady arousal, the sting was euphoric. In fact, I wanted more.

“It’s hot wax, Lille,” Jack said, and his voice sounded electric right then, full of pent-up desire that was slowly finding its relief. “How does it feel?”

Instead of answering his question, I simply pleaded in the tiniest voice, “Do it again.”

The deep, erotic sound of approval that followed melted my bones, and I felt the wax drip along my back and pool around my hip. I hissed in a breath and then let the air out in an audible groan. Jack began to move his hips against me, his erection rutting hard into my arse. His fingers found the wax near my spine and rubbed, and then his body was covering me completely as his face fell to my neck. His tongue snaked out and licked all along the shell of my ear.

“Fuck,” he swore, and the word had never sounded more carnal. A second later, his arm wrapped around my middle, and he was pulling me up onto all fours. He knelt behind me, his hands caressing my thighs as the head of his penis nudged against me. There was nothing between us, no condom, and in that moment I had a crazy wish that he wouldn’t put one on. The moment his bare erection touched me, an addictive surge ran through my body, indicative of the heaven it would be to have him inside me raw.

He took the back of my neck in his hand, twisting so that our eyes could meet. All in a matter of seconds, as his cock continued to nudge teasingly at my entrance, almost going in but then not quite, his eyes asked a question, and my eyes replied with the answer.

Yes.

Perhaps all that hot wax was making me crazy and reckless, but I wanted to feel all of him, and pregnancy wasn’t an issue because I was on the pill. His grip on my hair fell away for a second, and then it was back again, this time on my neck, holding on tight as he sank his thick length inside in one delicious thrust. The feel of him, the sensation, the connection, was overwhelming, and my vision blurred.

He withdrew, and I whimpered before he rammed himself back in. His fingers dug into my neck, erasing Julie’s bruises with his own, marking me as his. Never in my life had I wanted to be owned so badly. His movements grew frenzied, his fucking hard and precise. Soon, his thrusts began to blur into one, and I was nothing but sensation. My brain shut off, words no longer held meaning, and I was only pleasure.

I was my senses and no more.

All I could hear was him.

All I could smell was him.

All I could taste was him.

All I could feel was him.

All I could see was him.

With his grip on my neck, he drew my body up, and pumped his hips sharp and quick. I shuddered and moaned as he reached around my body to palm my breast. His hand dug in hard as it travelled down my belly, over my mound and to my clit, where his fingers started to rub, not slow like the other night, but fast. This was all about making me come.

“I want to feel your muscles contract on my cock,” he rasped into my ear before biting down hard on my neck. A loud, strangled sound escaped me as his length slid in and out, the rhythm of his fingers coaxing me, raising me up into the sweetest possible release.

“You smell like me. Do you know how much that drives me crazy? God, you’re perfect, too perfect. You make me feel so wretched. I want to consume you, steal your light and make myself a little bit more. You’re more, Lille. I want to be more, too.”