He sucks my lip between his teeth, invading and conquering me with his scent and taste. I’m nearly melting. “Literature and sex go hand in hand,” he whispers, grabbing hold of my hips andpressing his growing erection against my stomach, “like whiskey and ginger.”
“I prefer Coke,” I say too breathily.
“Is that so?” he asks, snaking my skirt above my waist.
Cool air licks at my exposed legs in stark contrast to the heat of his hands, his fingers trailing over my skin, starting at my belly button. He circles it, then lets his fingertips trace lower in a featherlight, teasing touch.
By the time he slips a digit inside my panty line, I’m panting, my skin erupting in goosebumps.
I’m burning up.
He pulls the elastic away from my skin and lets it snap back into place. “I should punish you for breaking into my office.”
“I didn’t break in,” I reply. “The door was unlocked.”
I’ve never regretted wearing underwear as much as I do when he trails a finger over my damp slit. How can a flimsy piece of lace fabric create such a barrier?
“You thought you’d let yourself in.” He leaves me quivering, two seconds away from hyperventilating, with my skirt bunched around my waist. “Thirsty?” he asks, making his way to the minibar.
He’s such a strange man, and I’m still too aroused to make sense of his words. Tingling all over, my pussy feels empty.
He pours us two tumblers, carries them over, and hands me mine. I greedily accept it, needing something to burn away my embarrassment.
I gulp it down like soda, and Darian raises a brow but stays silent.
When I place the empty tumbler on the shelf behind me, it dawns on me that Darian has yet to take a sip of his.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.
“You really are quite a wildcat, aren’t you?” He counters as he turns to put his drink on the desk, slow and unhurried. Thenext thing I know, he picks me up by the waist, puts me down beside the tumbler on the desk, and guides me to lie back with his fingers splayed over my sternum. “Sharp claws, a loud hiss, and an even louder purr.” He retrieves something from the desk, and I push onto my elbows to get a better look, but he shoots me a warning glare, so I obediently lie back down with a thundering pulse, wondering why I’m so willing to let him play with me like a marionette doll.
My thoughts grind to a halt when I spot the scissors in his hand. “What are you doing?”
It’s a stupid question. I know exactly what he’s doing—cutting my skirt down the middle. The fabric parts like the Red Sea for Moses as the scissors glide over my stomach and between my breasts. He carefully guides the fabric away before leaning over me to take my left nipple into his mouth, drawing it into a hard bud and eliciting a moan as I arch my back.
His hot tongue swirls over the sensitive peak, and he bites it between his teeth and looks up at me from beneath his dark lashes. It hurts in a good way, and I’m on edge, both anxious and aroused.
As the abused bud slips from between his wet lips, he trails the scissors back down and nudges my panties aside to expose my glistening cunt.
“Perfection,” he whispers, burying the flat ends of the scissor blades between my lips and spreading them until my clit peeks out in between. He could snip my clit right off if he wanted to, injure me beyond repair, but I know he won’t. His lust-filled eyes drink me up like the finest whiskey.
Speaking of whiskey. Darian keeps me spread open with the scissors as he reaches for the tumbler beside my head. “Do you know why sweet vermouth is one of my favorites to mix with whiskey?”
“I thought you liked ginger the best?” My sensitive nipples ache with anticipation.
With a hum, he dips the glass and pours whiskey over my nipples. “Ginger is nice, too, but sweet vermouth reminds me of you.”
Cool whiskey pools in my belly button next.
“Why me?”
He takes a sip, his throat rolling with the movement, and then he pours whiskey straight onto my pussy and sucks it clean. I’m whimpering, almost bucking into his dirty mouth, but I don’t dare move with the scissors spreading my pussy lips like the curtain on a stage.
“Vermouth, like you, is very complex.” This time, he pours a generous amount of whiskey, and I feel it pour between my ass cheeks, cold and wet. “And delicate, with notes of vanilla, orange, and clove.”
“Aah,” I moan as he slurps it up and sucks on my clit. The sensation of the scissors and the threat of pain excites me more.
Darian sucks on my pussy lips, then drags the flat end of his tongue through my slit, lapping at my slick desire. “Can you see now why sweet vermouth goes so well with whiskey, Mrs. Delacroix?”
