Wild Addiction (Wild #2)(29)
Author: Emma Hart

Tyler laughs loudly. “And did you get that from my sister?”

“Actually, no. I used this thing called a brain. You might have heard of them.”

“Oh, you mean you have one, too? I thought that peculiar phenomenon only existed at the end of my cock.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Dick.”

“How apt.”

“You’re such a twat.”

He looks over his shoulder and winks. “I love it when you call me that. It’s kind of hot.”

“Twat? Really? That’s hot?”

“Oh, no, wait. That’s just me.”

I cover my mouth with my hand to stop my laughter escaping and hold my phone to my ear. “Hello, 911? We have a serious cause of Overgrown Ego-Itis that needs immediate attention.”

Tyler leans across the table and grabs the phone off me, laughing to himself. “You’d be missing out if I wasn’t so cocky. Shit, Liv. Could you imagine how bad I’d be in bed?”

“What the hell does that have to do with your ego?”

“Clearly it has everything to do with it. If I weren’t so confident in my abilities to fuck you into next week, I wouldn’t be able to tell you all the filthy things I want to do you.”

“Oh yeah?” I raise my eyebrows. “Like what?”

“Like how I want you to get your arse into your room and get some stockings on purely so I can rip one off later to tie your hands.”

“And?”

“Let me finish, woman.” He tuts. “To tie your hands to your headstand so I can fuck you from behind and spank your arse.”

“That’s a total waste of my time.”

He looks offended.

“The stockings. Not the sex,” I say quickly. Definitely not the sex. Never the sex. “Why don’t you just get one out of the drawer?”

“Because it’ll be far more fun to peel it down your leg while my tongue fucks your clit.” He shrugs like his words haven’t just sent a lightning bolt of desire straight to my clit.

“Fair point,” I squeak out.

He turns and his gaze collides with mine. His hot, demanding, dominant gaze. “Now get in your fucking room and get changed.”

I swallow, my pussy clenching, and get off the stool. I run into my room and step out of my jeans. I roll a pair of stockings up my legs and pause in front of the mirror, fingering the hem of my sweater before pulling that and my shirt over my head. I dump them in the corner of my room and free my hair from its braid.

It’s soft and silky as I run my fingers through it while walking back into the kitchen. I’ll give you get changed, Tyler Stone. How’s stripping off for you?

“Turned on, Liv?”

“I’d challenge you to find out, but you’re cooking, and I wouldn’t want to distract you.” I sweep past him and reach into the cupboard to get a can of food for Angus. I hook my finger through the pull-ring and pull the top off.

Tyler’s hand slides over my ass cheek as I bend to dump the food in the bowl.

“No,” he says huskily. “Wouldn’t want to distract me at fucking all.”

His hand connects with me in one sharp slap. The sting radiates across my skin, the tingling sensation as pleasurable as it is painful.

He leans forward, his lips brushing the curve of my ear. “I’ll soothe that when you soothe my dick.” His finger hooks inside the top of my panties and pings it. “Because you are giving me so many fucking ideas wandering around in your underwear.”

“You told me to get changed.”

He squeezes my hip. “You’re a tease, you bitch.”

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

“I hope you can eat fast because you have ten minutes until you find out.” He releases me and kills the flames on the cooker.

I think I just lost my appetite.

“Sit,” he demands, pointing a wooden spoon at my chair.

I lower myself onto it. I know that low, husky tone he’s talking in. I know the way it vibrates through my body and across my skin. I know the promises and threats it contains. I know the inevitable pleasure that will be borne of the intensity of the dirty words it accompanies.

I know the anticipation, the struggle, the release.

He slides a plate of chili in front of me. “Eat.”

He sits opposite me and stares me down as he grabs his fork. His eyes are burning into mine. His gaze is hot and lustful, and the power it holds makes me shiver. It never wavers as he eats slowly. Never leaves mine. Never falters.

My throat is dry. Swallowing is like sandpaper, like rubbing silk against a rugged cliff edge. Because with every beat of my heart, my control slips away.

But this is a control I can lose. This is pure sex. It’s desire and lust. There’s no deep emotion except what lies on the surface.

This is safety.

Tyler’s commands, his control, his total dominance over my body whenever he demands it.

What was once my danger is now my safe place.

What once was my temptation is now my addiction.

“Not eating?” His voice is low, and I can only imagine what he’s thinking.

“I’m not hungry,” I breathe, my chest tightening.

Slowly, he puts his fork down and studies me. From the flushing of my cheeks to the parting of my lips and the obvious rise and fall of my chest, he doesn’t miss a thing.

He never does. He knows my body the way a piano player knows the keys. He plays it the same way—with ease and finesse—pleasure falling from his fingers the way music falls from the pianist’s.

And the way he stands and stalks toward me resembles that. He grabs my wrists roughly and pulls me up. My skin burns beneath his touch, and I whimper as he crushes his lips against mine.

It’s heaven and hell, saint and sinner, all in one desperate touch.

His tongue flicks against my lips, his teeth nip the tender flesh, his lips caress. He pulls me back toward my room and, once inside, flips me around against the door.

My back flattens against the surface, and Tyler holds my wrists at my sides. His mouth travels along my jaw, down my neck, across my shoulder… My chest heaves as blood rushes through my body in a heated pulse of desire.

He kisses his way down my stomach until his mouth is hovering above my clit. His breath crawls over the sensitive skin, gentle yet hot, and he releases my wrists. He grabs my thighs and kisses me through the lace of the panties. Then he flicks his tongue out, the roughness burning my clit.

He does it again, and again, and again. Short, fleeting movements that feel so intense. So intense that I feel nothing but that until he stops and stands. And turns me, grabs my wrists, and ties the soft material of my stocking around them.