his shoulders.
Margot was breathing fast then.
Heavy, hard.
And there was a wildness, a glorious heat, in her gaze that hadn’t been there before.
He held her ass in his hands again, levering her up off the bed so she was at an angle.
And it was impossible not to notice that she was exactly the right size, scaled to fit him perfectly. He could lift her. He could play with her. And soon enough, he would be so deep inside her it would feel like coming home.
Thor was actually shaking a little, he wanted to fuck her so badly.
“I want to lick you until you scream,” he told her, and his voice was gruff. He felt so greedy and insane with need. “It’s my preferred version of a handshake.”
“Oh my god.”
“I am named for a god, it is true. Are you calling out my name, Professor? Or is that a prayer for deliverance?”
She sucked in a breath that sounded like a moan and writhed in his grip. Her hair was spread out around her, a bright tangle on the bed.
“Why are you talking about it?” she demanded, her eyes too dark and too gold, and furious. Thor could relate. “Why don’t you just do it?”
“If you want me to do something, Margot,” he told her, clipped and dark, “you need to ask for it. By name.”
MARGOT’S ENTIRE BODY was rioting.
Everything seemed connected. Her breath. Her pulse. The wild heat that stormed through her and made her want to do things she couldn’t even name—things she’d never thought she’d have the slightest interest in before tonight.
Before Thor.
She didn’t understand what had happened. One moment she’d been in complete control. She’d been aware that he was baiting her, but that had been fine. She’d had more than a little anxiety about what she was planning to do, and the fact that Thor kept challenging her helped. She’d undressed as she wished, making certain that the entire exercise felt like what it was: work.
Then everything had shifted, rendering her something like drunk when she’d barely tasted her wine. But that was how it felt. The imposing walls of this penthouse of his had seemed to slip and slide, and the heated floor beneath her feet had seemed to buckle.
It was something about that arctic blue gaze of his and the way he fixed it on her, as if he didn’t care what that kind of intense focus might tell her about him. It was the way he’d stayed there, low before the fire as if he didn’t hum with all that lethal energy and had done nothing but...watch.
Even thinking about it made her shudder where he held her, lifted up and off the bed though her shoulders were still pressed into the mattress.
And Thor was still dressed.
Somehow that made it all hotter. Dirtier. He was fully clothed while she writhed about, flushed red and naked and wide-open to him.
Imagining what she must look like to him made her shudder again, perilously close to another wild shattering.
“I don’t beg,” she panted out at him, trying to force a little more air into her chest.
The look on his face was too wicked to name.
“If you say so. But I did not ask you to beg. Just ask me for what you want, Margot. Ask me, or I will simply hold you here. Like this. Forever.”
She believed him. She wasn’t sure why, because it didn’t make any sense that he would actually do something as ridiculous as what he’d threatened when the entire point of them being here was to have sex. Not stand around in odd positions.
But the truth was that her body didn’t find anything about Thor ridiculous.
Not one thing. Not even his sensual threats.
She pushed herself up onto her elbows again. She told herself she was uncomfortable, that she was cold and in a strangely angled position—but even if that was true, she couldn’t say she cared much.
Thor’s hands were big like the rest of him, and he held her ass securely as if he really could do it forever. She felt almost as if he was burning her, his palms were so hot.
And her pussy was so wet it occurred to her that she ought to be embarrassed.
She told herself she wasn’t, but a kind of electric shame flashed through her, telling her what a liar she was.
“I don’t understand,” she managed to say, though she could hardly hear her own voice over the roaring in her ears.
“You do.”
“I don’t see why I have to perform for you.”
“You can either own your sexual desires or you can deny them,” Thor said, that voice of his like gravel though it rolled through her like some kind of honey, pooling in all the dark places inside her she’d never acknowledged. “But only one of those things is going to get you off.”
Something was building inside Margot then. It felt much too intense. It felt much too close, too scary—
But this is sex, she told herself. It’s just sex.
And sex wasn’t scary. It was sometimes awkward, or messy, or better in theory than in practice because penises never behaved as advertised and her own orgasm was often hard to chase down, but it wasn’t scary.
Besides, she was here for research purposes. And there was nothing scary about research. Why was she psyching herself out?
“Put your mouth on me,” she blurted out, and it was as if she’d stuck her hands into an electrical socket. Everything went white-hot inside her, all over her, until even her breath felt edgy. Raw.
“Where?” Thor’s voice was stern. Implacable.
“I can’t...”
“If you can’t name it, Margot, how can you truly enjoy it?”
“This is no time for philosophy.”
He didn’t relent. “Where, Professor? Where do you want my mouth?”
She was wide-open before him. He was lifting her off the bed as if he was prepared to serve himself a taste of her—and she was bright and hot and shuddery at the very idea. Her pussy was melting and wild, with a dangerous pulse all its own.
And it wasn’t as if the rest of her was any better.
Margot pressed her elbows down against the mattress beneath her. Her hands were in fists against the comforter. She was tense and needy, sensations she’d never felt in her life shivering through her again and again.
