I look up. “Keep me how?”
“Any how.”
I don’t know if that’s a threat or if I want him to keep me. When it comes to Connor Crossbow, I’m at odds with myself.
“Toss me my shirt, would you?” he asks.
I swipe the T-shirt as I walk over to him. The heat of his body and the sheer beauty of it make me dizzy. I should’ve stayed away. I sniff his shirt. “I’m keeping this.”
“Oh yeah?” He spreads his legs and pulls me to stand between them. “You want me, but you don’t want me.” Long fingers slick back my hair as if he’s going to tie it into a ponytail. He tugs and then rises to his full height to tower over me.
“Tease me all you like. Keep my T-shirt. Fuck yourself with it for all I care.” He releases me and turns around to move a chess piece. “Check.”
He hovers over the board.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“We’re done here. Get out.”
I throw the shirt at his back.
He turns and throws it into my face.
“Oh no, you don’t.” I bundle it and pitch it like I used to pitch softballs in high school.
He catches it with one hand and starts toward me, looking as angry as ever.
I back up and hit the wall.
“You’ve got skills, my girl.”
“I’m not your girl.”
“But you want to be.” Connor pulls my pants down, and I step out of them. Bare from the waist down, I curl my toes on the hardwood floor.
“I know you want to be my girl.” He drops his pants and lifts me up, then nails me to the wall with his cock.
He covers my gasp with his hand while his other hand holds up my bottom as he moves inside me, stretching me almost painfully. “Say you want to be mine.”
I grip his shoulders, and he moves slowly, not rushing it, even though I wish he’d bang me against the wall. Connor is a walking contradiction. Just when you think you have him figured out, he moves in the opposite direction. He won’t be pinned down. Boxed in. Molded to fit your vision or approval. He’s a sovereign, through and through.
Maybe so am I. Maybe I’m more like him than I care to admit. A little on the wild side. Or a lot.
He slams into me.
I wince.
“Say it.”
“I want to be yours.”
Connor picks up the pace. “What’s your form of contraception? Because it’s not the pill.”
“How do you know?”
“I know everything.”
Alarms go off somewhere in the back of my head, but Connor’s dick muffles them. I completely ignore them and let eight and a half inches of pierced dick penetrate me thoroughly. It feels glorious. And for a girl who loves sex and hasn’t gotten any in a while, I’m in absolute heaven. My breasts shake up and down, my head tilts back, my eyes close, and I hang on for the ride.