When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine 2)

“I just can’t stand it when you ignore me . . . discount me . . . act like I’m about as interesting as the hay on this floor. I did it to make you notice!”

“Is that what you think?” he bellowed, sounding equally amazed and infuriated. “That I don’t notice you? That I could ever possibly ignore you when you’re near? Or even when you’re not? Impossible. I’m as likely to ignore you as I would a fire in the room.” His gray eyes reminded her of a wild, electrical storm when his gaze flashed up to her face. Oh dear. She really had unleashed a tempest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His expression hardened. “No you’re not.” She muffled a cry when he grabbed the handle of the crop. He jerked up slightly on it, firing the aroused nerves of her pussy. Pleasure tore through her.

“Do you like that?” he asked from behind her, his voice tight with lust. He started to move the leather handle back and forth between her thighs, stimulating her pussy. When she didn’t answer because she was so overwhelmed by the illicit pleasure he gave her, he peeled back her buttocks and moved the crop deeper against her tissues. She cried out excitedly when the rod buried between her labia and rubbed against her clit. Lucien made a low, rough sound and she realized he could probably see how wet she was.

“Look at that,” he muttered as if to himself. “Your juices are going to season this leather perfectly. You’re really making it your own, aren’t you?” She moaned uncontrollably. He pulled back on the crop and worked the two-by-three-inch leather slapper between her thighs in a subtle sawing motion.

“Unclamp your legs a little,” he ordered, his voice sounding harsh. Tense. Was he as excited as she was? Her nipples pinched tight at the thought. She did his bidding, parting her thighs and crying out in pleasure when he rubbed the slapper directly on her swollen clit, back and forth, around and around in small circles.

“Lucien.” The naughtiness of what he was doing spiced her excitement unbearably. She began to bob her hips against the delicious pressure. But then the crop was gone from her hungry pussy.

Smack.

He’d popped her bottom with the slapper. “Oh, it burns,” she said, referring not just to the prickling nerves of her ass but also to the sizzling of her clit between her clamped thighs.

“You deserve it,” he growled, smacking her once more with the crop, mounting her excitement.

“Please, Lucien,” she moaned. Lust had vanquished her pride. An untenable, monstrous ache swelled in her, a clutching fist of desire that needed to be released.

“Don’t worry. I told you you’d get what you were asking for,” he grated out. She noticed the crop fall onto the floor.

“Lucien—,” she began, wanting to apologize. She wanted this—she was so hot and tense with desire—but she regretted pushing him. He interrupted her by lifting her. She heard a scraping sound on the hay-strewn floor.

“I need to raise you,” he said from behind her. She gasped when he lifted her with ease, settling her feet on a smooth carton made of hard plastic. When he set her down again, she was elevated by several inches, her bottom closer to the fly of his jeans. Jax whinnied loudly behind them.

Her eyes went wide at what she heard next: the sound of his zipper lowering. Her heart began to race faster than it had when Jax bolted.

“You’ve tried me enough, Elise.”

He noticed her looking back at him and met her stare. She sensed how aroused he was, how rabid with lust. Sweat sheened his upper lip and his eyes looked wild. His breath was coming raggedly as he hastily worked at the fastenings of his pants and lowered his boxer briefs.

She gasped when he pressed the thick, engorged head of his cock against her entrance. She could feel his heat penetrating into her. Oh. She’d never felt a man so rigid with need, so huge . . . so primed. Panic fractured her arousal. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t act her way through this. She wasn’t sure the mechanics of what he was trying to do were even conceivable.

“I had planned to take you the first time in an exchange of pleasure you would remember forever, but a hard, rough ride here in the stables somehow seems more appropriate. Damn you for always getting your way, Elise,” he said grimly before he held her hip steady with one hand and flexed his hips forcefully, grunting when he went nowhere.

“Spread your thighs,” he ordered tensely.

She opened her legs wider, feeling the cool air of the stables lick at her damp, exposed tissues. The anticipation was unbearable. He widened her vagina with his fingers and pressed the thick, engorged head of his cock into her slit, stretching the delicate tissues. She whimpered.

He held her hips with both hands and drove his cock into her.

She cried out sharply at the abrupt invasion. Pain spiked through her. He froze. She panted for air, blinking the sweat out of her eyes. The pain segued to a burn. She moaned shakily.

“Elise?” Lucien queried from behind her, sounding incredulous. Angry. But she was too distracted to consider his fury.

No . . . it didn’t burn after all, she realized as she panted for air, struggling to assimilate the foreign sensation of Lucien’s flesh penetrating her own. The quick flash of pain had quickly cooled to a simmering sensation of fullness and pressure. He pried her wide. But was that his heartbeat pulsing along the shaft of his cock directly into her clamping flesh?

Incredible.

She tightened her vaginal muscles experimentally. His groan sounded harsh, disbelieving.

“Elise?” He repeated, louder this time, sounding desperate. “Have you ever?”