The Closer /private chambers/

| 3.2 | dangling the bait

❝Help me get away from myself
I want to fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to god❞

Chapter Three: 
Dangling the Bait
(cont'd)

Every cell in my body screamed at me to stop. To stop kissing him, touching him, craving him...but my sense of resistance had died the moment he'd pressed his lips against mine in that damn car. I fumbled with the key to my hotel room, awkwardly backhanding it into the key hole all the while occupied in filling myself up in his poisonous kisses.

"Fuck this," he growled impatiently, separating his lips from mine only momentarily to open the goddamn door. We stumbled back into the dark room, not bothering to turn the lights on. Once again, he sealed his mouth over mine and I moaned into his kiss.

Fuck self-resistance. Fuck abstinence. This was to die for.

I was still shocked by how soft his lips were. He was masterful, demanding, yet gentle in the way he teased my mouth open, his tongue dipping inside to dare a taste. I pressed my hands against his chest, feeling the toned muscle concealed beneath the layers of the suit. The universe wasn't really cursing me, no. It was rewarding me. I tugged at his shirt, attempting to unbutton it but patience was not his virtue. He just tore it off, as simple as that.

I wanted to take a good minute to marvel at the wide expanse of muscle in front of me. To touch every inch of his chest, and feel the sculpture of perfection beneath my fingertips. But he had other plans.

His hands moved down my back to my ass, cupping the globes in his hand before turning me around and pressing himself closer into me. I smiled, feeling that I wasn't the only one wanting this so bad. Without thinking, I ground myself against him and he let out a groan that bordered on filthy. One hand snaked in front and between my legs, prying my thighs apart, the other got to work on unzipping my dress.

"You know," I sighed, closing my eyes as he sucked on the nape of my neck, one long finger trailing down my back as the zip went further down, "you still haven't told me your first name."

He stilled. "It's Hans," he rasped, unmoving. "Hans Castellan."

"Hans Castellan..." I repeated, his name flowing off my tongue like a melody. I thought I felt him tense behind me but whatever it was was gone the moment I turned to face him. I trained my eyes on his face, taking note of the pools of desire in his eyes as I stepped back. With my hands, I slipped the ruined dress off of my shoulders and it fell to the floor, a puddle at my feet.

I watched him soak me in, his eyes raking from top to bottom, stopping at the swell of my confined breasts before meeting my eyes again. I watched a man look at me in a way I hadn't allowed for anyone to in years. And I watched as he took a step forward, his frame towering over my own before he touched me again, sending me into oblivion.

It burned. Every part of me. From the heat spreading from my toes to the knots unfurling in my stomach, to the very center of my core...everywhere he touched me lit fire. We fell back into the bed and his hands shot out to grip my wrists, pinning them above my head.

"Stay," he ordered.

My breath hitched in my throat, eyes fluttering shut. Hard kisses and nips along my collarbone, followed by the heat of his palm above my covered breasts, groping and tugging at the nubs. Hans made a quick job of undressing me from that point, his hands skimming along my skin to unhook and slip off the last of my underwear. My hands were fisting the sheets by the time he was crouched on the ground. I watched him through hooded eyes as he spread my legs apart and kept them there, his hands hooking below my thighs.