“Mr. Redthorne,” she said, adorably exasperated. “Please let me touch you.”
Ignoring her, he hit the intercom for Jameson.
“Yes sir?” came the reply.
“Jameson, I’d like you to take the long way home, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all, sir.”
He turned off the intercom, then said to Charlotte, “There’s a compartment beside you. Open it.”
She did as he asked, finding a small ice chest, freshly refilled. He heard the change in her heartbeat, the quick skip as the realization set in. He knew at once she was thinking of their rendezvous in the game room in Tribeca, just as he was.
Without being asked, she retrieved an ice cube from the chest and brought it to her lips.
“Suck on it,” he whispered, tightening his grip on his cock.
She wrapped her lips around the ice cube and slid it into her mouth, obeying his command. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she moaned softly, working the ice as if she were workinghim.
Bloody hell, I could die right here and call it a life well lived…
“Open your legs,” he demanded, and she did, her sweet blush spreading from her cheeks to her neck, cresting over the tops of her breasts. “Touch yourself for me, Charlotte. Show me what you do when you’re all alone in that bed at night, thinking of me. Remembering all the dark, wicked ways I’ve made you come.”
Charlotte moaned again, dragging the ice cube from her lips to the hollow of her throat and down to her breast, slowly running it over one nipple, then the other, rivulets of water dripping down her skin. A low growl vibrated in Dorian’s chest, and he stroked himself again, following the trail of melted water with his eyes, recalling the sweet, addictive taste of every soft curve, every dark hollow.
“Charlotte,” he breathed, his own heart rate matching hers, beat for rapid beat as she slid the ice cube down between her thighs.
She gasped at the shocking cold, but didn’t stop, her head falling backward against the headrest, her hips tilting upward as she swirled the ice over her clit, then dipped inside, fucking herself for his pleasure.
“Oh,fuck,” she breathed, a sound of pure ecstasy as the ice finally melted and she took over with her fingers, stroking herself faster, the blood singing through her veins, her heart pounding as she pushed herself closer. “I’m… God, Dorian. You’re… impossible…”
“Don’t stop, Charlotte,” he warned, his own voice strained. The moment threatened to overwhelm him, Charlotte melting at her own touch before his eyes, the limo purring hypnotically along the highway, her scent invading his senses, his balls tightening, desperate to unleash everything he’d been holding back for a fuckingeternityas they’d spent their nights apart…
“Please, Mr. Redthorne,” she whispered, trembling and desperate. “I’m so close.”
“I know, love.”
“It’s you I want,” she breathed. “It’s you Ialwayswant.”
Dorian tightened his grip, forcing himself to resist the siren call of her begging. “Not yet, love. Not until you come for me.”
She caught his gaze, her eyes dark and glassy, defiance sparking in their coppery depths. But Charlotte was, as ever, eager to obey. With another desperate moan, she closed her eyes and slid her fingers inside, then back out, frantically circling her clit, harder, faster, faster still…
“I’m… Dorian… Oh myGod! I’m there… I’m… Fuck! Yes!Yes!”
She came for him hard and wild, the blush spreading across her body like a sunset, chasing the waves of her orgasm until she was spent and panting, her body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, her legs trembling, her heartbeat like a thunderstorm.
When she finally met his eyes again, Dorian growled, hungry and possessive. Fuckingferal.
He’d never seen a sight so beautiful.
And she was his.
Right. Fucking. Now.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A deep, erotic growl rumbled through Dorian’s chest—Charley’s only warning before he blurred into her space, capturing her shoulders and pushing her onto her back.
