But that doesn’t prevent me from slipping my fingers under the waistband of his briefs and pulling them down just enough to release him. I keep my eyes on his as I trail my fingers along his hard length, starting at the base and then moving up until my fingers rub over something smooth and cold.
I swallow hard.
Oh my God.
He wasn’t lying.
I move my fingers up more and come across another metal ball, and then another.
My eyes widen as I look at him. “You—you have a Jacob’s Ladder?”
“I thought you didn’t use the professional terms.”
Ignoring him, I feel his cock some more, loving the stark contrast of his velvety skin against the cool, hard metal of his piercings. And as I explore them, all I can think about is how amazing it would feel to have him inside of me, how I would love to feel these piercings moving in and out of me, stretching me.
Just as my hand circles around his cock, he stills my wrist.
My eyes land on his and he says, “I said you could explore, but you’re not allowed to fuck me with your hand.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me. That’s exactly what you were doing. You want to see me come.”
“No.” I shake my head, but it’s a feeble attempt at a lie. We both know it. It’s obvious.
He moves my hand back to my side and then he rolls out of bed. In the dark night, I can see an outline of him as he stands in front of me, his hand gripping his cock.
All I can think about is how powerful he looks.
“This cock isn’t yours yet, Coraline.”
“But you’re my husband,” I say, even though my head is screaming . . . what are you doing?
“Until you show up in this bed wearing my shirt or naked, this cock is not yours.”
He heads toward the bathroom and I call out, “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t turn around as he says, “Thinking of your luscious tits as I jack off in the bathroom.”
And then he’s gone, and all I can think about is how he gets to stroke his cock and I don’t.
Worked up, horny, and in the need of release, I move my hand under my shorts and between my legs and find just how wet I am.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I press two fingers to my clit and slowly start to massage it.
Yes, this is what I need. I only wish it wasn’t me doing it. That it wasn’t me seeking my release, but rather him.
From the bathroom, I hear him grunt, which sends a white-hot flush over my skin.
My fingers quicken.
A light moan falls past my lips and my other hand travels to my breast, where I give my hardened nipple a good squeeze.
A bolt of pleasure zips through me, but it’s not good enough. I need more.
I need him.
I want him on my body, controlling me, owning me.
I might not want marriage, but I certainly want to know what it’s like to be fucked by Pike Greyson.
God, I’ve wanted him for months. The other night in Vegas, I’d thought I’d finally get him.
And now I’ve seen him shirtless. Felt his incredibly hard and toned body. Held his cock in my hand. The bar . . .
I speed up my fingers.
My stomach bottoms out and every nerve in me bundles and twists to the juncture between my thighs as I think about Pike inside me, kissing me, licking me, fucking me so hard that I forget who I am or what I’m doing.
“Yes,” I whisper, moving my hips along with my finger. “Yes, Pike,” I say, the words slipping past my lips.
My orgasm builds, bunching, collecting, pulsing, until I’m right there, hanging on the cliff, about to fall over. My back arches, and with a heavy sigh, I fall over, euphoria ripping through me as I finger myself to completion.
God, that felt—
Fingers wrap around my wrist and snatch my hand up from between my legs. My eyes fly open in shock to discover Pike hovering over me.
Frightened, I watch his scowl morph into understanding as he slowly brings my fingers to his mouth. In awe, I stare him down as he sucks my fingers into his mouth before releasing them back to me.
“Next time, it’ll be my face between your legs, not your hand. Got it?”
I don’t know how to respond.
I’m not even sure I should.
So, instead, I lift up from the bed and scoot to the side to go use the bathroom. I start to move past him when his hand lands on my stomach, stopping me.
I don’t turn to look at him. I can’t.
My mind is an absolute mess of emotions, of need. I’m sure if I look him in the eyes, everything will come crumbling to an end and I’ll give in to him.