Page 29 of Danny

"I want to be here," I say. "I just — I want to say that. Before anything. I want to be here."

"I really fucking want you here, Anna."

"I don’t know what this is, Danny, and I know we’re worlds apart but-”

“You’re mine, Anna. That’s what this is. You’re fucking mine.”

He crosses the room in three steps and kisses me fiercely. His tongue swipes my lips as I part them slightly. He claims me in such a possessive way, all I can do is allow it. His hands tangle in my hair, keeping me exactly where he wants me. His fingers drag slowly down my neck, landing on my throat. His hand feels rough against my skin as he adds the smallest amount of pressure, making me shiver.

"Cold?"

"Do I look cold?"

"You look—" He stops. Swallows. His Adam's apple moves and I watch it and want to put my mouth there. "You look like you're going to ruin me."

"I might." I say quietly.

"I'm okay with that, baby."

His lips land back on mine as he pushes my straps down off my shoulders. The dress loosens and I shimmy my hips and it falls and puddles at my feet. I'm standing in front of Danny fucking Sterling, billionaire businessman, in a black strapless bra, lace underwear and the highest heels I’ve probably ever worn. I should feel self consciousness. I should definitely try and cover all my softness. I doubt I’m anything like the models a guy like Danny is used to.

I go to cover my stomach as Danny grabs my hands. He’s shaking, like he can barely hold himself back.

"Danny..."

"Give me a second."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm trying to — I haven't done this in two years. And you're standing there looking like a fucking angel and I'm trying to not to come in my pants—" He runs his hand over his face. Presses his fingers into his eyes. Drops his hand. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I’m barely holding back, baby. You’re so fucking perfect."

He kisses me again, and I can feel his restraint snapping. His hands on my waist, warm and broad, pulling me against him, and the tuxedo fabric is rough against my bare skin. I reach for his buttons because I want it off.

He catches my hands. Holds them. "Wait."

"I don't want to wait."

"I know. But I want to — just. Let me." He doesn't finish the sentence. Instead he drops to his knees on the hardwood floor and I make a sound that's embarrassing — a squeak, basically, because Danny Sterling just knelt in front of me in a four-thousand-dollar tuxedo and is looking up at me from below and my brain is short-circuiting.

His fingers hook into my underwear. He looks up. A question.

"Yes." My voice comes out higher than I want it to. "Obviously yes."

“Thank God.” He groans.

He pulls them down, lowers his head between my thighs and drags his tongue through my lips.

Holy shit...

My jaw drops as my eyes roll back and a needy, desperate sound escapes my throat. It feels like I’ve dived headfirst into molten lava. I’m so wet for this man right now, it’s almost embarrassing.

His wet tongue drags up and down my lips, making me shake as he curls it round my clit. I grab his hair and my knees buckle immediately as he wraps one arm around my thigh to hold me up, steadying me.

He doesn’t fucking stop. His tongue flicks over the sensitive nub and I cry out, my back arching, my hand in his hair. I can’t fucking think right now as he plunges two fingers inside me, curling them deep.