He increased the pressure, his grip tightening just enough to make her breath hitch in a series of shallow, needy gasps. The humiliation of the alley, the fear of the neighbors, the anxiety of her career—it all began to recede, replaced by the singular, overwhelming reality of his hands on her body.
She was no longer arguing; she was reacting, her body singing a different song than her lips.
The sting of the pinch was only the beginning. Mike's eyes darkened, seeing the way her defiance had melted into a desperate, shivering need.
He didn't let her recover; he didn't give her the chance to regain her footing or her dignity. Instead, he reached down, his large hand sliding past her trembling thighs to find the source of her frantic heat.
His fingers, thick and calloused from years of strength, found her clitoris with predatory accuracy. He didn't start gently.
