Read Online With His Consent (For His Pleasure, Book 13) by Kelly Favor - Free Book Online
Authors: Kelly Favor
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if by magic. Now she was absolutely bare, out in the open, and Bryson had the blanket all to himself.
“Hey, what the hell!” she yelled.
He chuckled. “I warned you, Scarlett.”
It was dark enough in the room that she couldn’t see his face or his expression, and she realized that he probably didn’t even have a clue just how scantily clad she was right now.
“Give it back, Bryson.”
“No.”
“I’m serious.” She leaned across the bed and tried to pry some of the blanket away from him, but he had it in a death grip.
“Goodnight, Scarlett.” He sighed contentedly.
“Fine, you want to play this game?” she said, using his own words against him.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he said cheerfully.
Scarlett found that her inhibitions were quickly fading. Maybe it was the lack of light in the room, or the wine, or the fact that she was tired—maybe mostly it was how much she was enjoying Bryson’s playfulness in bed.
Whatever it was, she decided that she was going to take things up a notch. She was going to get that stupid blanket off of him, whatever the cost. So she pounced.
Jumping on top of Bryson, she straddled him and grabbed the top of the blanket.
Then she pulled with all of her weight.
It started to come loose. She pulled harder.
“Are you insane?” he shouted.
“I told you I was serious,” she said.
“You’re seriously insane.”
“I’m getting this blanket. And I’m going to keep it all to myself.”
She could feel him beneath her, moving, his body warm and strong. The only thing between them was this blanket. Scarlett realized that she was getting very, very turned on.
This struggle, this physicality with a man—she craved it like air to breathe.
Bryson grabbed her wrists tightly. “You need to chill,” he said.
“No.” She fought against his strong, firm grip.
“Scarlett…” he said, holding her.
She struggled harder, building up a sweat, grinding her pelvis into him, feeling her sexual excitement grow and grow. She wanted to ride him, wanted to feel his hardness against her, rubbing her.
Suddenly, he rose up, like a lion—easily sweeping her onto the bed. She was on her back now and Bryson was on top of her, and the blankets were cast aside, forgotten by both of them.
“Why are you acting like this?” he said, still holding her wrists.
“Don’t ask stupid questions.” She tried to wiggle away.
He pressed his weight down on her, forced her arms up over her head. She wrapped her legs around him and hooked them together around his waist. He smelled clean, like soap, and his body was hard and heat poured off him. She could feel Bryson’s breath on her cheek.
Their bodies were pressed together, both of their chests heaving from the exertion.
In the semi-darkness, she could just make out his eyes.
He grinded his pelvis against hers, very slowly, and she moaned softly. She could feel him now—feel all of him. He was excited too, very excited.
She liked having him on top of her, controlling her. Surprisingly, it was as if he knew exactly what she wanted and needed, without her having to say a word. He let go of one wrist and slowly caressed her hair, softly, and then wrapping his hand in her hair, he pulled.
She let out a gasp and tightened her legs around his waist. He let go of her other wrist now and put his hand in her hair. With both hands, he pulled her hair and then his mouth was on hers, intensely kissing her with a passion that blew her away.
She kissed him fully, not holding anything back at all. His kiss was sweet and salty, intense and loving, his lips caressing hers with a seemingly intimate knowledge of what she wanted and needed.
Her breathing was faster and faster, and she was moaning from deep in her throat.
Bryson was bringing out something new, something that freed her up completely. She wanted his hands on all of her bare skin, holding her breasts, her legs, touching her most private spaces.
For now,
“Hey, what the hell!” she yelled.
He chuckled. “I warned you, Scarlett.”
It was dark enough in the room that she couldn’t see his face or his expression, and she realized that he probably didn’t even have a clue just how scantily clad she was right now.
“Give it back, Bryson.”
“No.”
“I’m serious.” She leaned across the bed and tried to pry some of the blanket away from him, but he had it in a death grip.
“Goodnight, Scarlett.” He sighed contentedly.
“Fine, you want to play this game?” she said, using his own words against him.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he said cheerfully.
Scarlett found that her inhibitions were quickly fading. Maybe it was the lack of light in the room, or the wine, or the fact that she was tired—maybe mostly it was how much she was enjoying Bryson’s playfulness in bed.
Whatever it was, she decided that she was going to take things up a notch. She was going to get that stupid blanket off of him, whatever the cost. So she pounced.
Jumping on top of Bryson, she straddled him and grabbed the top of the blanket.
Then she pulled with all of her weight.
It started to come loose. She pulled harder.
“Are you insane?” he shouted.
“I told you I was serious,” she said.
“You’re seriously insane.”
“I’m getting this blanket. And I’m going to keep it all to myself.”
She could feel him beneath her, moving, his body warm and strong. The only thing between them was this blanket. Scarlett realized that she was getting very, very turned on.
This struggle, this physicality with a man—she craved it like air to breathe.
Bryson grabbed her wrists tightly. “You need to chill,” he said.
“No.” She fought against his strong, firm grip.
“Scarlett…” he said, holding her.
She struggled harder, building up a sweat, grinding her pelvis into him, feeling her sexual excitement grow and grow. She wanted to ride him, wanted to feel his hardness against her, rubbing her.
Suddenly, he rose up, like a lion—easily sweeping her onto the bed. She was on her back now and Bryson was on top of her, and the blankets were cast aside, forgotten by both of them.
“Why are you acting like this?” he said, still holding her wrists.
“Don’t ask stupid questions.” She tried to wiggle away.
He pressed his weight down on her, forced her arms up over her head. She wrapped her legs around him and hooked them together around his waist. He smelled clean, like soap, and his body was hard and heat poured off him. She could feel Bryson’s breath on her cheek.
Their bodies were pressed together, both of their chests heaving from the exertion.
In the semi-darkness, she could just make out his eyes.
He grinded his pelvis against hers, very slowly, and she moaned softly. She could feel him now—feel all of him. He was excited too, very excited.
She liked having him on top of her, controlling her. Surprisingly, it was as if he knew exactly what she wanted and needed, without her having to say a word. He let go of one wrist and slowly caressed her hair, softly, and then wrapping his hand in her hair, he pulled.
She let out a gasp and tightened her legs around his waist. He let go of her other wrist now and put his hand in her hair. With both hands, he pulled her hair and then his mouth was on hers, intensely kissing her with a passion that blew her away.
She kissed him fully, not holding anything back at all. His kiss was sweet and salty, intense and loving, his lips caressing hers with a seemingly intimate knowledge of what she wanted and needed.
Her breathing was faster and faster, and she was moaning from deep in her throat.
Bryson was bringing out something new, something that freed her up completely. She wanted his hands on all of her bare skin, holding her breasts, her legs, touching her most private spaces.
For now,
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