Vicious | ongoing

chapter eleven

C H A P T E R
E L E V E N

His fingers dug deliciously into my skin, firm— just like the guy beneath me.

His lips were on mine, hot and fiery, as he demanded dominance. I held my own, though, rolling my hips against him to remind him he didn't have all the control. But, god, I wanted to give it all to him. Let him have all of me. It was a dangerous thought, chaotic really, but I couldn't be bothered to care.

I felt my back leave the wall as he lifted me further up his hips. I clung to him, feeling every inch of his defined skin, my fingers trailing up and down his exposed back, desperate to feel more, more, more.

He lowered me into the bed. It was larger than I remembered but then I didn't really have much time to think when he was pressing against me in moments, his entire front now against mine.

Everything seemed more prominent, like I could feel every curve, every dip... every bulge.

I took ahold of his waistband, gently. My fingers skirted it once again, and I was patient in dipping my fingers inside. He sucked in a breath when my fingertips made contact with the skin below it, the skin dangerously close to his manhood.

"You know I've fantasised about this since the day I met you," he said, easing himself up to stare down at me.

I rose my eyebrow. "I'm sure."

I doubted it very much, honestly. This man had had many, many women in his time. Even if he had 'fantasised' about me, I didn't really know if it was much of a compliment. I knew it wasn't my place to judge how many women he'd slept with and so instead, I was grateful to them for giving him the practice.

He took ahold of the hem of my night dress, fingers feeling the soft material. I expected him to pull it entirely off my head, so lifted my hips up. But instead, he took it only a little past my thighs.

I watched him, his dark hair looking messy and rugged. His expert fingers drifted from my calf to the highest point of exposed skin. I let my head top back when he touched my inner thigh. He'd barely done anything and I was putty in his hands.

I was sure goosebumps were prickling all over my skin, all of my sense alert when his fingers travelled further, until they brushed over my clit. With not enough pressure to bring pleasure, I gave a broken sigh.

"Look at me," he said, low and voice thick with desire. I returned my head, eyes on his. He took one of his hands and cupped my chin. "You sure you want to do this?"

God fucking yes. "I'm sure," I said, instead.

It seemed to be the only thing he needed because after a momentary pause when he kept his eyes locked onto mine, he let them go downwards— to where I assumed he'd see just how much I wanted him.

My head shot back into the pillows, almost fast enough to give me whiplash, when his fingers pressed a little harder this time as they slid across my most sensitive part. And then his fingers left me.

Confused, I lifted my head. He was on his haunches, watching me in amusement. I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, but I was too busy being incredibly sexually frustrated to even attempt to.

I lifted myself onto my elbows, watching him with a raised brow.

He leant forward, hovering over me. I let myself drop down again as he brought himself closer. Securing my hands around his neck, I guided his head down, and attached my lips to his again. As our lips were busy, I used my hands and the little space between our bodies created by him holding himself up on his forearms, to wriggle my dress up my body.