Against The Wall by Rhyannon Byrd

He groaned, feeling like a thirteen-year-old boy waking up in the tumultuous throes of a wrenchingly wicked wet dream. He wanted to laugh and swear and bang his head against the blasted wall all at the same time.
    And he really wanted to screw the brains out of the pretty little imp lying in his arms.
    Her eyelids flickered with movement, a rapid beat of long lashes against creamy skin, and then she was looking up at him, her gaze cloudy and unfocused from sleep. There were lines of uncertainty between her finely arched brows, but sensual interest beginning to burn bright in her eyes. “What are you doing?” she asked in a husky murmur.
    “Nothing at the moment,” he drawled. “If you want to keep it that way, I suggest you move your hand.”
    Shea smiled, looking like the cat that’d just swallowed the canary, feathers and all. “Yeah? Where do you think I should move it?”
    He gave up the fight and nudged his cock into her, hitting her hip, letting her feel how massive she’d made him. “Hell, it really must’ve been too long for you if you can’t figure that one out on your own, sugar.”
    Shea stared up at him, awed by the smoldering blue of his heavy-lidded gaze and the strong jaw covered in dark golden stubble, both of which took his already irresistible good looks to the point of overkill. He was just so damn sexy—it was hell on a girl’s resolve not to fall all over him.
    His hand moved against her, his thumb sliding beneath the edge of her shorts, stroking the naked lips of her pussy as they grew slicker and slicker for him. Her breath caught on a sharp gasp and he smiled. “You really do need to be fucked, don’t you?”
    Not by just anyone, she thought with a delicious shiver. Only by you.
    But she was going to be damned before she let him screw her for the sake of charity, like it was his duty as a guy to make sure she got her sex fix. Men, she screamed inside her head, rolling out of the bed before he could grab hold of her.
    “I’m not interested in a pity fuck, Ry. So thanks—but no thanks. I guess I’ll just keep waiting until I find a man who wants me as much as I want him.”
    “Like hell you will,” he snarled, rolling out of the bed, his boxers tenting high and hard in front of him, drawing her eyes against her will.
    She tried to look away, but Jesus—what woman in her right mind wouldn’t stare at that thing when it was being so brilliantly displayed?
    Shea just kept staring while he stood there, fighting an internal struggle she knew nothing about, but as soon as he started around the end of the bed, straight toward her, she started backing up. Back, back, back, until she came up hard against the wall in the same damn place she’d been last night when he’d gone down on her. When he’d showed her that whatever measly pleasure she’d managed to give herself over the years was nothing compared to what Ryan McCall could deliver.
    Knowing the question was as asinine as it sounded, she asked it anyway. “What do you think you’re doing?”
    “You offered me a fuck last night,” he rasped, the husky sound scraping delicately across her skin, leaving chills in its wake. “Now I’m taking you up on it.”
    Shea lifted her chin, trying to ignore the rush of heat flooding between her legs, readying her body for his, softening her cunt for the thick penetration of that massive cock in his shorts. “In case you haven’t noticed, Ry, I changed my mind. You’re being an ass and I’d rather screw a snake.”
     
    Shit, he knew he was being an ass, but what other option did he have? There was too much at stake here—too much of him at risk—and this dick-of-the-year attitude was his last shred of defense between sanity and falling headfirst into an emotional unknown that he feared as much as he craved. An unknown that had him completely at this woman’s mercy, his heart hers to do with as she pleased, until she finally told him to fuck off and get lost. And then where would he