I turned, ready to give him exactly what he was looking for, and froze. He was closer than he’d normally allow and made no move to increase the distance as we came chest to chest.
Instead, he smirked. “Are you disappointed no one else has taken the opportunity to get into your panties? We’ve already established what a selfish fuck De Beaux is, so I can’t imagine you’ve found any…satisfaction…in your arrangement with him.”
“I don’t see how my satisfaction would be any of your concern, Quinn.”
He was so close I could hear the deep rumble in his chest as he chuckled. He smelled of clean sweat and that Tom Ford cologne. I hated how much I loved the combination. Doing my best to block out the intensity of him, I resisted the urge to step away and tipped my head back to meet his gaze.
“Au contraire. I find myself extremely concerned.” He tugged at the bolo tie looped around his throat. “I think I’d like to fuck you now.”
“What—”
He caught my wrist before I could step away, slid the string tie over his head, and wrapped it around my hand. Then he caught the other one and bound them in a loose knot.
“Would you like to renege on our arrangement?” he asked, his tone deceptively light.
“No.”
“Do you have any objections to fucking me?”
I really didn’t. My objections were all related to how he’d use this against me in the future.
“What do you get out of this?”
His laugh held genuine amusement, and my mind went blank as he graced me with a smile that held a warmth I’d never seen before.
“I thought that would be obvious, Tater-tots. Do you know how fucking works?”
He was trying to put me off balance. Was this a test? Maybe he didn’t intend to go through with it, and the whole objective had been to get me to admit I didn’t want him.
All this flew through my head as he took my silence as acquiescence and led me over to the sofa in the middle of the room. The venue staff would be waiting for me to check in and let them know they could clean up before closing, but I couldn’t find the words—or self-preservation—to stop what was happening.
With surprisingly gentle hands, Calix slid my jeans and panties off, then guided me down onto the cushions and unbuttoned my shirt.
He directed my hands overhead and had me grip the sofa arm, all while staring me down.
“Keep them here. If they move, I walk away.”
I nodded, my confusion giving way to a building need to see where this would go. He held my gaze for a long moment, assessing my understanding of his instructions, then released the front clasp on my bra.
The cool draft of the air conditioning whispered across my skin as I lay exposed under his assessing eyes.
I didn’t know what to expect. Harvey had a habit of taking what he needed, but Calix wasn’t Harvey.
He started slow, running a single finger along my jawline and down over my throat. His nail scratched slightly over the hollow between my collarbones, then traced over my sternum, showing no interest in detouring to my breasts. Down over the soft curve of my belly, he paused over my pubic bone.
“Are you wet for me?”
My last drop of defiance had me shaking my head, but he just grinned and pushed that finger into my pussy. The noise I made was obscene. He added two more fingers, enjoying the easy slide.
“You try to fight me, but I’m starting to think you like the way we play, Tater-tots.” He dropped his voice. “I regretted not trying this last time.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he dipped his head and licked a long line up my center.
“Fuck.” My hips kicked off the cushion before I could stop myself, chasing the sensation of his tongue as he pulled back.
For once, he didn’t keep me waiting. He muscled my leg over his shoulder and ate me like a man possessed. I screamed as his tongue drove into me, lighting up nerve endings that made my head swim and stars dance in front of my eyes. Calix Quinn was a force of nature on a good day, but as an orgasm curled through me, I had a fleeting thought that he may have been a little right.
Calix Quinn was a god.
