Wicked Company

Chapter Eighteen

"Fuck me like you hate me and I'll show you how much I despise you, too."

I must've surprised him, because he had no response, at least not in words. I never even saw him move. Groaning low, Tucker lifted me, my back pressed hard against the metal sheeting of the shop's wall. A gasp was forced from me, but the air never left my lips, instead it was a faint mumble against his when he leaned down and slammed his mouth onto my own.

It was needy, breathtaking, rough, and I couldn't get close enough quickly enough. His hands tunneled into my hair, pulling my head back to expose my neck. Moving his lips down my chin to my collarbone and back up again, he teased me relentlessly, the trail of soft kisses and stinging bites mixing with the rasp of his beard and setting my senses ablaze.

The rain beat down on us from above, our bodies thoroughly soaked. I pulled at his shirt, wanting it off and desperate to see him, but he withdrew a hand from my hair and pinned my wrists above my head. Rain drops dripped down his face, landing on my chest. Warmer than those falling from the sky, the path each drop made down my chest and under my shirt quickened my breath, wishing it was his tongue, his hands, him.

"You're a needy little doll, aren't you?" Tucker stared down at me, his iron-hard cock against my core the only tell he needed this as much as me. He forced his breathing to stay level, a simple look on his face as though this was no different than any other day.

I wanted him to show me how badly he was affected. I needed it. I had to know it wasn't just me.

"You're taking your fucking time. Just fuck me and then we can leave each other alone."

His gaze darkened immediately, narrowing as he glared down at me.

Bingo.

"Getting me out of your system, are you? Then you'll move on to someone else's bed, is that it?"

"Of course not. I don't do beds." His hand tightened on my wrists, the other fist gripping my hair harder. I smirked up at him, knowing I was getting to him and loving the power I felt.

"You're playing with fucking fire, Barbie."

"No, I don't think so. I think you're all talk or you'd already have me on my knees."

A shudder rippled through him and I couldn't hide that it heated me further. My core was dripping, screaming to be touched. His cock pressed hard behind his pants and against me and I was losing my mind. I needed to move, but I couldn't give him that satisfaction.

"You're going to piss me off." His voice was rough, thick with lust, and I was losing my own control by the second.

"Good. Show me then, prove it. Fucking punish me for it. Show me how much you hate me, Tucker."

His cock jerked behind his zipper when I said his name. "Fuck... say it again."

Struggling against his hold on my wrists, the rain gave me enough leeway to jerk them loose. Snaking my arms around his neck, I jerked his head closer, my lips flittering over his.

"Make me."

Growling at my breathless demand, he spun and kicked the shop's door open, pinning me again into the closest wall as it slammed closed behind us. Refusing to wait another minute, his hands moved between us and in a single motion, ripped my shirt off. He lifted my arms above my head again, using the torn shirt to tie them together before I could process it.

He kissed me hard, his lips demanding more from mine, slipping his tongue into my mouth and daring me to give in to his power. His hand reached behind me, flicking my bra open and promptly ripping the straps to pieces and tossing it away. He untangled my legs from his waist and set me down, still holding my tied wrists above my head as his other hand worked my jeans off.