Rebel’s heated stare holds mine prisoner for several heartbeats, charging the air between us with anticipation. Fire glints in the depths of those charcoal eyes causing the blood to pound through my veins. Without any notice, Rebel’s mouth crashes down on mine, consuming me with a sinful kiss that rocks me to my core. Our tongues dance together, licking, stroking, sucking. I taste a hint of chocolate still lingering from the donut he ate, making him even more decadent and utterly edible.
Breaking the kiss, Rebel stands back. A whimper crosses my lips, a plea for him to come back, to finish what he started. Then I notice the cool, calm mask he’s wearing. The one he uses when he wants ultimate control—over me, my body. The world.
My mystery man has entered the room. A thrill of excitement shoots through me like a bolt of electricity, sending hot and cold signals racing into my twitching muscles.
Placing the donut gently between his teeth, Rebel holds me in his granite gaze as he begins stripping off his clothing. Taking his cue, I do the same. His shirt that I’ve been wearing all morning is cast aside, leaving me completely bare to him.
His eyes peruse my naked body, the desire growing by the second. As he steps out of the last of his clothing—a pair of silky black BVDs that hug his powerful thighs like a second skin—his cock springs free, standing straight out from between his thighs like a steel pole. He removes the sticky sweet pastry from his mouth and approaches the bed.
“I want you to hold this in your mouth,” he says as he extends the donut out. I open my mouth, tasting the sugary sweetness on my tongue as he inserts it between my lips. Stroking my cheek with a finger that’s covered in glaze, he gazes down at me with barely contained excitement.
“Very pretty. Your mouth looks good when it’s stuffed full.” My lips curl up at the filthy compliment. His expression remains stony, but I imagine that in his eyes I can see tenderness. “Are you ready to play, pussycat?”
I nod my head, careful not to bite down on the donut.
Climbing onto the bed, Rebel lies back with his head on one of the pillows. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he crosses his feet at the ankles and arches a dark brow. “Get on your hands and knees and crawl to me so I can watch those beautiful tits sway.”
I do as he says, taking my time to drag the moment out as long as possible. Rebel’s eyes scan up and down my body, lingering on the curviest parts of me—my thighs, my ass, my breasts. With each part of me he stops at, his cock jumps and a wave of heat pools between my legs. When I reach his waist, he stops me with nothing more than a look.
“I’ll never get tired of seeing you on your knees,” he drawls huskily. “Now it’s time to put that mouth to work. Straddle my legs.”
I do what he tells me. The position places my wet pussy directly on his shins, my breasts flat against the tops of his thighs. If I wasn’t already feeling so needy, the hint of a smile tugging at his full, sensual lips would be reward enough.
“Good, pussycat. Now do what you do best, and use that brain to figure out what to do next. Remember, no hands.”
I give a sharp nod of my head and look down, my gaze falling on his erect penis. It’s standing tall, twitching every few seconds as if telling me to hurry it along. He wants me to use the donut, which is rapidly disintegrating in my mouth, but I only need a minute for this.
Tilting my head, I feel my teeth begin to sink deeper into the donut as I bring it higher, aligning the hole in the center with the head of his cock. It twitches again, jerking away from me a few times and making it that much more difficult to do what I want with it. Which was likely exactly what Rebel had in mind. Sure enough, one glance up at him and it’s impossible to miss the arrogant, mocking laughter in his eyes.
I chase his cock around a bit more, lifting and lowering my chin until I have it lined up right where I want it. The only problem is it’s too thick to fit through the hole. I chuckle to myself as my mind takes a detour into the gutter.
“Mmm, looks like you ran into a little snag,” Rebel muses.
Looking up at him from beneath my lashes, I hold his gaze as I lean forward and wrap my mouth around the head of his cock. My lips, nose, and chin press flush to the creamy glaze, now melting from a combination of saliva and body heat, and push down. The donut cracks and breaks apart, pieces falling off here and there as his cock slowly fills my mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” Rebel groans, his head dropping back and his eyes drifting closed as I take him deeper, all the way to the back of my throat. I bob my head a few times, drawing a few more pained moans from deep within his chest, before releasing him.
“Do you want my hands yet?” I purr, running the flat of my tongue around my lips to remove some of the sticky glaze, but there’s too much. Pink icing is smeared everywhere—all over his lower stomach, caught in his pubic hair. I can only imagine what I must look like. We’re both going to need a shower after this. Flicking my tongue out, I lick up the length of his shaft while I wait for his answer.
After a long moment, Rebel’s eyes pop open, and he releases his hands from behind his head. Grasping the back of my head, his fingers knot in my hair and drag me up his body until our faces are no more than a breath apart.
“No hands, but I will take that sweet pussy.”
Opening myself over the top of him, I feel his cock nudge my aching slit. “What about the rest of the donuts? I thought you wanted to play.”
“Fuck the donuts,” Rebel growls against my mouth. “Playtime is over. It’s time for fucking.” With one upward thrust of his hips, Rebel is lodged deep inside of me.
“Ah! Yes!” I shout, screwing my eyes shut as Rebel pounds up into me. His fist in my hair yanks my head back, exposing my throat. He arches up to meet me, and I feel the delicious scrape of his teeth along the side of my neck, followed by his hot, wet tongue tracing the throbbing pulse located beneath my jaw.
My fingers curl into the blankets, and my back arches wildly as he continues to pound into me, his thrusts wild and frenzied. I’m powerless to do anything but accept the brutality of it, receiving my pleasure from his, his furious grunts telling me just how out of control he is.
Fucking is what we do. I don’t know that it can or will ever change.
I don’t think I want it to.
I love the way Rebel comes unhinged. The knowledge that I make him that way. For a man like him, losing control is practically unheard of. So the fact that I can do it...
It’s the hottest damned thing I’ve ever experienced.
“Oh, fuck. Shit, Josephine! Ahhh, God, I’m coming!” Rebel’s cries of pleasured pain spark something deep inside of me that I can’t even begin to explain. It’s dark and all-consuming. A passion so profound it reaches into the very heart of my existence and dredges up parts of me I’d thought I’d lost ages ago. Parts of me I’ve been denying exist. Parts that refuse to be ignored any longer.
I follow him down into the depths of uninhibited pleasure. Stars dance beneath my closed eyelids, creating a stunning display that echoes the torrent of raw emotions sweeping through me now—fierce desire, profound loyalty, wonderment, and stunning realization.
Our breaths heave from our lungs as our bodies fall limply to the bed. My cheek pressed to his chest, I listen to the thundering of his heart beneath my ear as I slowly regain control of my thoughts.
I’ve known this for some time, how I feel about Rebel. My true feelings, though I’ve spent a lot of time denying them. I’ve buried them deep in hopes of saving myself from heartache, but I am beginning to realize that it was inevitable.
Maybe I’m mentally defective, and my family history has destroyed the vital part of me responsible for making smart and informed decisions. Maybe I’m just a self-destructive fool who runs headlong into danger. Maybe his mother was right, and we were meant to be together. Or maybe I just want so badly to believe her words that I’ve allowed myself to turn them into truth.
Whatever the truth is, all I know is what I feel in my heart—the dull thud inside my chest that reminds me I’m alive aches to be freed from its self-imposed cage. Like a trapped bird whose cage door has been left open, it tells me to step free from my prison and take what life is offering.
It’s not a matter of if I want to anymore. It’s a matter of when will I.
I’m tired of living with regret. Of denying myself what I want because I’m afraid of what everyone else will think. I’ve lived my entire life dancing around a bubble of fear and shame, only to push away the one and only person who’s ever accepted me—the real me—right from the start without question or reservation. No judgment—that’s what Rebel offers me.
Beneath me, Rebel’s chest swells, and he releases a tired yawn. In a matter of moments, he’ll be out cold, detached from this world and from me. I envy him that ability—I’d rather dream than lie here listening to these thoughts race through my head in an endless loop.
Tracing my fingers lightly over the heated skin of his chest, I fear the words that hover on the tip of my tongue. Not of the response I expect to hear, but of everything that comes after.
Then I remind myself that a life without risk is a life not lived.
I want to live.
In the softest voice I can manage, one barely discernable over the beat of his heart in my own ear, I say, “Rebel...I—I love you.”
The pattern of his breaths remains unchanged. I inhale a sharp breath of my own, relieved. It’s not easy putting yourself out there, and I’m not exactly brave. Easing into the pillow of his chest, my eyes drift closed, and I focus on clearing my mind.
“It’s about time.” Rebel’s deep voice vibrates beneath my cheek, destroying the serenity of the moment. “I was beginning to think you’d never say it.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I figured,” he replies with a rumble of laughter building in his chest.
Leaning up, I prop myself on my elbow and stare down at him. “So you just let me hang there while you pretended to be asleep?”
“Are you telling me you would have said anything if you thought I’d been awake?” Pressing my lips together, I don’t say anything. “That’s why,” Rebel states with a maddening smirk. “You never would have told me, and you know it.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I stare him down for a few long moments. When he shows no sign of wavering in the slightest, I give up, huffing as I drop back onto my own pillow. “You’re a very frustrating person, you know that?”
“Eh.” The sheets swish as he shrugs.
“So, I guess the question is...what now?”
Turning his head, Rebel gives me a sleepy smile that’s no less intimidating than if it were full-watt. “Right now, we take a nap. Later, we go out on the balcony, break out the rest of those donuts, and show the world that there’re a few more stops along the way before they reach your thighs.”
My eyes widen as my mind races. “Oh, you’re absolutely diabolical, Mr. Scott.”
“And you’re absolutely fuckable, Miss Hart.”