Overruled

by Lana Ferguson

I gasp when he spins me, pushing me against the vanity and smoothing his hands over my hips as his lips brush along my shoulder. His voice is low, making me shiver. “Do you know how crazy you make me?” His fingertips tease at the hem of my skirt, drawing it upward slowly. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else but the way your skin feels since the first time I touched you.” “Ezra—” Whatever I’d been about to say morphs into a moan when his fingers curl over my thigh to slide over the fabric of my underwear, teasing my slit through the material. “Already wet,” he sighs. “Always so fucking wet for me. Even when you pretend to hate me, your body can’t lie.” I should be telling him to fuck off, or at least, I think I should—it’s hard to think when he presses his hard length against my ass, thrusting slightly as he continues to trace a slow back-and-forth over my underwear. “Tell me how you want me,” he breathes against my ear, his teeth nipping the lobe. “I’ll give you anything you want if you tell me, Dani.” Tell him you don’t want anything. Tell him that you— “Hard,” I rasp. “I want to feel it tomorrow.” “Perfect,” he groans, tongue tracing the shell of my ear. “You’re fucking perfect.”