Wild Addiction (Wild #2)(16)
Author: Emma Hart

I drop my purse and slowly walk to him. My heels click against the marble kitchen floor, each clack strengthening my resolve.

I stop an inch away from him and look up at him. The shadows play across his face, making the intensity of his expression scary and alluring at the same time.

Slowly, I reach down to the hemline of my dress, and crossing my arms, I pull it up and over my head.

His eyes never leave mine. Through every one of my movements, they are fixated wholly on my gaze.

I reach forward and undo the buttons of his shirt one by one. I tease the material until it’s completely free from his pants and step back, bringing him with me.

“You,” I answer, opening the balcony doors with one hand. “I want you, Ty. Every second of every day. If you knew how much, if you could see into the insanity inside my mind, you might have a chance at understanding.”

“Then let me see,” he whispers, reaching his hand toward my face.

I block him. “But I have to have you on your terms. That’s the problem. You’re giving me everything, but you’re not letting me take what I need.”

“I don’t understand.”

The chill of the night air ghosts across my bare skin. I drop my hands to his pants and undo his belt then the button. I push him back a step then yank the material down. It pools at his ankles.

“Sometimes, I need you on my terms.” I ease my fingers beneath the waistband of his pants and slowly push them down, bending as I guide them over his legs. “And sometimes, you have to let me have you that way.”

He’s still hard, and his cock jerks when I wrap my hand around him.

“Liv.” He hisses my name from between his teeth.

I ignore him and press my lips to the head of his dick. I flick my tongue out, tasting a small drop of come, before I take him in my mouth fully. I glide my lips across his smooth skin and run my tongue over the vein throbbing at the side of his shaft. My movements are slow and deep, my fingers firmly wrapped around the base of him, my tongue drawing swirling movements across his hardness.

He dives his hands into my hair, tangling my loose locks hard around his fingers. The sting radiates across my scalp and makes my eyes water, but I welcome it.

I welcome the physical pain to block out the emotional.

My free hand finds his hip and my fingers dig into his hot skin as I grip him tight. His hips jerk, his cock hitting the back of throat. I fight my gag at the sudden intrusion and open my mouth wider, move faster, take him deeper.

I suck him harder, working the base of his cock with my hand, making sure no part of his erection is untouched by me.

My name is falling from his lips in pleasured yet tortured groans. The repetitive sounds are crawling over my skin, warming me, almost fueling my movements.

Because right now it isn’t about him.

This is about me.

This is about me giving him something but not really letting him take anything from it.

Because I need him to lose control. I need him to find that blissful, fucking blinding oblivion. I need him to lose himself, forget his own name.

I need him to surrender to me.

“Liv. Shit, Liv!” He swells in my mouth and tries to pull me away.

I dig my nails into his hip, suck hard, and make my message clear. It’s as if a switch flips in his mind and his hips take a pace and rhythm of their own.

He fucks my mouth hard. My teeth graze his skin. He groans my name. My eyes burn.

He pushes my head forward at the exact moment that his hot, salty come spurts into my mouth. I seal my lips around him and swallow it, wincing at the vile taste. Shit.

When he stills, I release his cock and kiss his thigh. His hip. His lower stomach.

He runs his fingers through my hair and pulls me up, flattening me against his body. His hands run across my back and down to my ass. His fingers brush my pussy, and I shake my head.

“No,” I whisper.

He stills for the second time in as many minutes. “No?”

“No,” I repeat, my voice still quiet.

His chest rises forcefully with his deep breath. It lowers slowly after a moment, and I expect him to push it. I expect him to try and tease me into letting him do what he wants, but he doesn’t.

“Okay,” he replies just as quietly and slides his shoes off with his feet. He steps out of his pants and underwear. “Bedtime.” He kisses the spot beneath my ear and grabs my thighs, lifting me up.

I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. I bury my face against him, a slither of control sneaking through my veins.

I feel guilty—for forcing him to my will then denying him his.

But I also feel stronger.

And very, very fucked up.

Tyler literally drops us onto the bed and I shriek.

“Fuck! That was my ear, you bitch!” He jolts away, clapping his hand over his ear.

I laugh. “Oops.”

He stares at me for a moment like he can’t decide if he’s done telling me off or if he’s going to laugh at me. He does neither. In the end, he grins, lies next to me, and yanks me to him.

I rest my head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek. “You didn’t take your socks off.”

“You didn’t take your knickers off. I say it’s fair.” He kisses my forehead and sighs deeply.

Okay. I’m not going to reply. I’m going to lie here, fall asleep, and pretend I didn’t just give him a blow job for entirely selfish reasons.

“Tyler Stone, one of these days, I’m going to bloody well kill your useless arse!”

My eyes widen.

“Shit!” Tyler snaps, slapping his hand over his face. He yawns and heaves himself out of bed. “Shit. Sorry!” he yells. “Hang on!”

“Um.” I push myself up to sitting.

“That would be my sister.” He pulls some jeans on, totally forgetting his underwear, and rubs his eyes.

“I thought she wasn’t supposed to be here for another three days?” I whisper angrily.

“Shit. Me too.” He opens his bedroom door and slips out. “Tessa! You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Thursday, dickhead!” a very British accent replies.

“You told me Sunday!”

“Where the bloody hell did you get Sunday from? Honestly, Tyler. You’re like a child. Sun-hun-day,” she says, enunciating each sound. “I had to call Aaron to get him to get me collected from the airport because you weren’t there and you wouldn’t answer your phone.”

“I guess he gave you his spare key,” Tyler groans.