Talk Me Down by Victoria Dahl Page A

control.
    “Was this…” he said in a gruff voice she’d never heard from him. “Was this all a ruse to get me in your bedroom?”
    Molly smiled at him through her lashes and pressed one hand just below his heart. She spread her fingers wide and brushed her thumb over and over his nipple. “Do you really believe you needed to be tricked here? You think I couldn’t have had you earlier today?”
    His laugh was humorless. “No,” he grumbled, then sucked in one short, violent breath when she leaned in to swirl her tongue around the nipple she’d been teasing.
    She kissed it again, then slid her lips lower, pressing tiny kisses to his chest. She was back on her hands and knees, supplicant to his body, and the idea turned her on so much that she couldn’t help wiggling her ass as she pressed an openmouthed kiss just above his navel.
    “Molly,” he growled, and his fingers curled into her hair just hard enough to be forceful. He dragged her up so fast that her body slammed into his chest and his mouth was on hers, open and hot and demanding.
    Boy, her body remembered that taste, and every nerve that hadn’t been awake perked up as soon as his tongue rubbed hers. She moaned into him, then gasped with surprise when his hands took her elbows in a tight grasp to hold her still. He kissed her so hard she had to tilt her head back to take all he was giving, and, Jesus, it felt good.
    His mouth left hers and she was breathing hard, gasping, as his teeth scraped her jaw. Then he leaned down, his hands still holding her still as he licked his way down her neck. The shadow of a beard scraped her chest, rasped against the cotton of her shirt, and he was on his knees on the floor.
    “Ben,” she panted, her fists curled into her own hips, because his hands still held her pinned. His lips closed over her nipple, then his teeth, scraping her through the wet fabric. Molly keened and pushed against his hands, but her arms didn’t budge. She was helpless to stop his sucking, biting kisses, and the knowledge tightened everything inside her to a glorious tension. Her clit felt swollen. When she clenched her thighs, just that slight shift of her panties made her tremble.
    “Oh, God. Oh, Ben. I need you to touch me.”
    “I am touching you.” His words were ice against her wet nipple.
    “No, I…”
    He moved to the other nipple and lavished just as much attention there. She squirmed, arching into him, wishing he would just crawl inside her and ease this terrible pain.
    “Please,” she begged.
    His lips left her with a tiny wet sound and he smiled up at her, eyes burning hot. The wet cotton against her nipples had faded to transparency and the sight of her pink flesh begging for more attention only ratcheted her need higher.
    “Please touch me,” she whispered. His thumbs skimmed over the inside of her elbows as a reminder that he already was. “Touch me…” She swallowed against the danger of what she really wanted to say. But his brown eyes glowed with demand. He wanted what she was afraid to give, afraid to admit.
    “You like to talk,” he said, a challenge.
    Molly gasped. “I was drunk!”
    “Yes, you were. And you like to talk. So talk to me.”
    She swallowed again and felt her heart quake in her chest. She’d always tried to control herself, tried to swallow back the embarrassing things she wanted to say. But Ben was looking up at her with a half smile that was secret, wicked and not the least bit sweet.
    Her whisper hurt her throat. “I want…I want your fingers inside me. In my pussy. Fucking me.”
    Oh, yeah, that was what he wanted, what they both wanted. His smile widened to victory, and her knees began to shake against the mattress as he released her arms. When he reached for her top, he stood and whipped it over her head with as little hesitation as she’d shown with his shirt.
    She thought he was going to pull her close again, but his hands—his big hands—tucked under her arms, fingers spreading over