Margot couldn’t let herself go there.
There were too many precipices littered about and she wanted no part of any of them. Not if considering their danger might make her rethink what she was doing.
She didn’t want to rethink it. She didn’t want to think.
Margot pushed herself up to kneel before him, and a little throbbing thing shook itself awake in a distinct sort of feminine pleasure at the fact he still towered over her.
Something in her shouted that it wasn’t right to like this feeling. This strangely compelling sensation that she was small where he was so large, fragile where he was tough, everywhere—
Margot ignored it.
She pushed up the fine, soft T-shirt he wore and worked it over those massive shoulders of his. And her reward was that when she did, his chest was right there before her. His skin was hot to the touch. And he smelled so good it made her eyes water and her belly tighten.
She didn’t care if it was right or wrong or what she ought to feel when she followed an urge she didn’t recognize and bent forward, pressing her open mouth to the hollow between his pectoral muscles.
But he still wasn’t naked and Margot was running out of patience. And nerve. Her fingers felt too big, too clumsy when she wanted to take her time. She wanted to explore every fascinating ridge of his abdomen and all those smooth, heavy muscles that gleamed in the firelight, but there was that dark need deep inside her, winding itself tighter and tighter.
She felt heavy with it. As if she might scream, or cry, or simply burst apart at the seams if she couldn’t find her way to that...more.
“Why are you frowning?”
Margot hadn’t realized she was until he said so. And the amusement in his voice didn’t help. She didn’t want to tell him that she was desperately trying to keep herself together. That she’d already come too many times and she couldn’t seem to stop trembling, down low in her belly. That some part of her was terrified that there was more and that she wanted it so badly.
Or worse, that there wasn’t. That she’d already had her fun and Thor would be a disappointment the way she finally admitted to herself many other men had been.
It’s unfair to call a mostly satisfying sexual encounter a disappointment, she lectured herself then, the way she always did. There’s no such thing as a sex god. You were there, too.
But if he’d asked, she would have said that there was no way she could come and come and come again from a little bit of oral sex, either. It wasn’t something she’d ever liked all that much, despite how many times her friends—and ex-boyfriends—had told her there must be something wrong with her.
Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with her. Maybe she just hadn’t met Thor.
“I want you inside me,” she threw at him, and only realized when the words hung between them that she sounded as if she was in the middle of a fight.
Because, of course, he had no idea that she’d just scared herself with her thoughts. His blue eyes gleamed too bright, as if he might laugh at her, and that was suddenly the worst thing that she could imagine.
So Margot tilted her chin up and doubled down. “Not your fingers. Not your mouth. Your cock, Thor. Now.”
His smile was slow. Languid.
And so hot that Margot felt scalded.
“Yes, Professor,” he murmured, as if there was a single part of him that was at all submissive when she could see perfectly well that there was not.
He stepped away and Margot bit her tongue so hard to keep from complaining that it actually hurt. She tasted copper but was happy she’d kept her complaints inside when all he did was move to the side of the bed, rifle through the drawer in his nightstand, then pull out a condom.
Then Thor crawled up onto the great big bed. She hadn’t seen him kick off his shoes, but he was barefoot when he threw himself down in the center on his back.
He was also still wearing his trousers.
“Why do you still have clothes on?” she asked, and she could hear the greed and impatience in her voice.
And those other things she refused to acknowledge.
“You didn’t take them off,” he replied, entirely too much laughter in that voice of his.
Margot scowled at him.
“You should know that the more you do that, the more inviting I find it,” he told her, and Margot couldn’t tell if he was teasing her.
Or why it made that tight thing inside her seem to flex.
Then hum.
She was no blushing virgin. And yet that was what she felt like with him. Silly, somehow. As if she didn’t know herself at all. As if the person who had walked through the doors into this hotel earlier this evening was a complete stranger to this naked creature who was literally panting for a man she’d just met. She wasn’t sure she had the slightest idea what to do about that—
But right now she didn’t care. She couldn’t let herself care.
Margot kept her eyes on Thor’s as she crawled toward him. She stopped when she was kneeling beside him, and she wanted—desperately—to conceal the fact that she was breathing so heavily. She could feel her rib cage expand and contract, and worse, she could feel the way her breasts swayed.
But there was no hiding such a thing. She didn’t try, and she told herself that accepting it felt a little bit like power.
When really, the most powerful thing about her at the moment was that molten greediness between her legs. She felt like she was her own furnace.
“Is it your turn to beg?” she asked.
“If you want me to beg, all you need to do is ask me for it.” His mouth curved, but it was more a challenge than a smile. “Like anything else on the menu.”
Margot didn’t have words for the thing she wanted.
Because she wanted everything.
She settled for putting her hands on the waistband of his trousers, still looking at him as she did.
“Are you waiting for me to stop you?” Thor looked almost offensively relaxed for a man who was as hard as he was. Margot could feel the heavy length of his arousal under her hands, leaving her in no doubt that the man was built...proportionally. But he only grinned at her and then folded his arms beneath his head as if he was on a beach somewhere. “Or to give you permission?”
Everything about this—about him—made her bristle.
But it also made her wet.
Wetter.
Margot decided to run with the latter and started to undo his fly. It was slow going because he was so damned hard his cock was pushing up against the fabric, distending the front
