Chapter 56

His eyes flash a green so vivid and intense that they steal the oxygen right out of my lungs. “As you wish.” In one swift, powerful move, he flips me over and throws me down onto the bed, grinning like a demon as he kneels over me, eyes roaming the length and breadth of my body without a lick of shame. “For every filthy thought you’ve had about me, Stillwater, I’ve bested you ten times over. You’ve no idea how many times I’ve wrapped my hand around my cock and made myself come to you here in this bed. How many times I’ve almost bitten through my fucking tongue, aching for you as I’ve shot my load all over my stomach. I’ve always been a depraved and dirty thing, Elodie Stillwater, but the idea of you has corrupted me to the point of insanity.”

Oh…my…fucking…god.

The thought of it. The very idea of him lying here in this bed, touching himself, stroking his dick, closing his eyes, and painting himself pictures of me as his pleasure mounts…

It’s just too fucking much. Want burns between my legs, so urgent and demanding that I have to press my thighs together to prevent my hips from bucking of their own accord. Wren takes me in; he can see how glazed over and hungry my eyes are, and it only seems to urge him on.

“I’ve painted you on canvas, Little E, but it hasn’t been enough. All I’ve wanted to do…” He takes hold of the bottom of my shirt, fisting the hem of the thin material. “All I’ve been desperate to do…” He rents the material in two, tearing it from my body, and exposing my stomach and my chest. “Is paint your entire body with my come.”

He isn’t shy. He reaches out and palms my breasts through my black, lacy bra, growling through his teeth in an animalistic, possessive way that has my back arching off the bed. He bows himself over me, huffing down his nose, kissing and licking at the skin of my neck, and down, down, down, until he’s hovering right over my chest. How many times have I stared at that cruel, beautiful mouth of his and worried about how much damage it was capable of inflicting? It was too dangerous to imagine how much pleasure he could deliver with it. And now, here I am, spread out for him on his bed, finding out firsthand just how capable he is…

He rubs his jaw against my breasts, then clamps down over the thin, sheer material, pinching my nipple between his teeth, and— “Fuck! Wren!”

Pain lights me up, brilliant and blinding, and a wicked smile spreads like sin across his face. With painstaking slowness, he slides his hand up my body, starting at my hip, moving over my stomach, my ribs, my shoulder, briefly taking hold of me by the neck, though not closing his fingers tight, and then continuing upward, until his palm is pressing down, featherlight, over my mouth.

“Believe me, Little E. You do not want them to hear this.”

He’s talking about Pax and Dash, of course. His asshole roommates are probably lurking out there in the hallway, slapping each other and acting like dicks, straining to hear what’s going on in here. Wren’s expression is all warning. “I can fuck you, Elodie. I can take your breath away. I’ll make you come around my dick so fucking hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week. But you cannot make a sound. Do you understand? If they hear…”

He doesn’t complete the sentence, but I can see that he’s being serious. Gravely so.

Dipping down, he kisses me roughly, his tongue and his teeth and his raw desire crowding in on me, making me dizzy. “Can you do that?” he asks, nipping at my bottom lip with his teeth. “Can you be quiet for me? Can you do what I tell you, when I tell you, without screaming the house down?”

I nod. I’ll gag myself if I have to, so long as he keeps on kissing me, and his eyes continue to feast on me like I’m the most delectable thing he’s ever seen. His hands are calloused and deliciously rough as he runs them down my body. I shiver, completely at his mercy as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my jeans and tugs at them suggestively.

“Lift your ass,” he commands. I do it without so much as flinching, planting my feet on the bed, and hiking my hips up off the mattress. Wren unfastens my pants with quick, deft fingers, ripping the zipper down, then grabbing hold of the material and yanking it over my hips, tearing the denim from my legs. His eyes burn into me, devouring my bare flesh as he slides off the end of the bed and takes off his hoody. He does it in that lazy way that guys do, one hand reaching behind him, grabbing the material, and tugging it over his head in a smooth move. His t-shirt goes with the hoody, and both items of clothing drop to the floor at his feet.

Then he’s standing there in nothing but his sweats, his thumbs dipping down below his waistband, smirking ruinously at me. There’s a dare in his eyes—something insolent and brazen that tells me he’s going to be naked if he pulls down those sweats.

“Wanna go back downstairs and drink more coffee?” he asks. He’s giving me an out. A chance to back away from this situation before it goes any further.

“I appreciate the offer,” I say breathlessly, “but I’m gonna explode if you don’t get back over here in the next three seconds and take care of me.”

Wren smiles, but it’s a humorless expression. He must feel it. This electricity between us must be eating him alive, the way it’s eating away at me. He takes down his sweats, and as I expected, his cock springs free from the thick material, standing proud as he steps out of the pants. A moment passes, where I dig my fingernails into my palms, so close to breaking the skin, and Wren stands still, allowing me to see him.

He’s hard as hell. And fucking big. I expected nothing less; Wren gives off mad big dick vibes twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I just wasn’t expecting him to be this big. The heavy head of his cock bobs, and I feel like I’m sinking into the bed beneath me, disappearing into it, being swallowed up by the comforter and all the confusion of pillows.

Wren takes one step forward, palming himself in his hand. “Sure about that coffee?” He gives me an open-mouthed grin that almost makes my eyes roll back inside my head. Jesus wept, he’s fucking beautiful. I snuck a peak at him back at the gazebo, the night of the storm, but I didn’t let myself drink him in the way I’ve permitted myself to do now. His abs are ridiculously cut, his pecs standing proud from his muscled chest. And the defined vee that leads the eye down, down, between his legs, guiding me right to his erect dick…I can’t fucking look away. So, I look down instead. His balls are big—suspended, heavy, and swollen between his thighs. Wren notices where I’m looking and moves his hand down, cupping himself, shuddering slightly when I let out a breathy whimper that’s embarrassing as hell.

“Is this what you came here for, Little E? Did you know this was going to happen? Were you thinking about my dick the entire way down the mountain?”

I swallow, trying to make sense of what’s happening inside me right now. I’ve never been so conflicted before. There are too many thoughts and needs and wants, all quarreling with one another, screaming over the top of one another, begging to be heard. My emotions are like one of Wren’s stormy paintings—a swirling mass of color and light and darkness, all mixed, blurring, and surreal.

Is this even really happening? Am I even really fucking here? Is this a feverish, delicious nightmare that I’m going to wake from, panting and covered in sweat?

“No,” I whisper. “I didn’t let myself think…this.” I didn’t. Such a thought would have been far too dangerous. If I’d let myself for one minute think that this might happen, I’d have been running back up the hill like the very devil himself was at my back.

Smart girls don’t tangle with the devil.

Girls who have a good head on their shoulders steer clear of this kind of trouble.

I used to know exactly who I was—someone who’d make the right call when faced with temptation. I’m only realizing now that I’ve never truly been tempted before. It was easy to walk away from parties, booze, and cute boys when I was back in Tel Aviv. My father made it easy. The promise of a hot and heavy make-out session with a guy I liked couldn’t compare to the never-ending world of shit I’d be in if my father found out. But Wren…fuck, I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want Wren. And no matter how stupid it is, I’d risk everything to have him.

He grabs his dick, too, groping and squeezing himself with both hands now, his eyes hazy and unfocused as he approaches the bed. “Since you’ve made it clear that you’re disinclined to beg, I’m gonna need you to tell me what you want out of this situation.”

My heart trips and topples over the edge of a forty-foot cliff, taking my stomach with it. “Probably more than you have to give,” I admit in a timid voice.

He seems intrigued by that. “You’re not talking about my body. You’re talking about something else.”

I’m frayed, coming apart at the seams. I’m aching and burning for him so fucking badly that I don’t even know what I want anymore.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says, the words dark and full of gravel, promising pain untold. “There’s only so much of me a person can take before it starts to hurt, Little E. And no, I am not talking about my dick.” He smirks ruthlessly. “My heart’s a grenade. It’s safer where it is, locked in its cage. You take it outta there and you’re essentially pulling the pin.”

“What happens then?” I’m shaking all over.

Wren’s reached the bottom of the bed. He lets go of his straining erection and places his hands on my ankles, curling his fingers around them tightly. “I don’t know. No one’s ever tried.”

He drags me toward him by my feet and claims me as his prize.