Page 70 of Wicked Heat

“Whatever you want,” she whispered. “However you want it.”

“She remembers the rules,” he said, slowly peeling down the top of her dress until she was naked from the waist up. Then he cupped his hands over her breasts. Her breath hitched, and his cock grew even harder.

He slid one hand down, teasing her pussy through the thin material, his cock straining against the denim as she whimpered softly, then shifted, pushing her ass back against him in what could only be a silent plea for more.

“Beg me for it,” he whispered, as his fingers teased their way under the skirt. As he found her wet and wanting and ready. “Beg me to fuck you right here, standing at the top of this city.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Desperately,” he admitted. He couldn’t remember wanting a woman more, and it wasn’t just because he’d been denied her for so long. Wasn’t because of the rules he’d set. He wanted her humor and her strength. Her sass and her smile.

Most of all, he wanted the way she made him feel. As if he was her hero. As if he had the power to slay all the monsters that haunted her.

And somehow, someway, he would do just that.

“Beg me,” he repeated, longing to be inside her.

“If I beg, I’m free.” The soft words were almost whisked away by the breeze.

He stifled a groan. He’d set the damn rules. “I want you, Bree,” he said, and he couldn’t remember ever meaning those words more. “Tell me you want me.”

“Yes.” The word was little more than a tremulous whisper, but he could hear the truth.

“Say it,” he demanded, his fingers thrusting inside her, making her gasp and moan in a way that only made him harder. “Beg me,” he ordered as he teased her clit and she made soft sounds of growing pleasure. “Beg me,” he repeated.

But she stayed brutally silent.

Frustration as pungent as fire curled through him. He’d never wanted anything more than what he craved right then. To yank the dress all the way off. To lay her out on one of the over-sized chaises. To spread her legs and fuck her as the lights of the city twinkled like fairy dust all around them.

He wanted to lose himself inside her. To take her up all the way to heaven, then send her crashing back down like the burning embers of a shooting star, only to land safe in his arms again.

“Beg me,” he pleaded, but she only shook her head. “You want me,” he whispered, his fingers stroking her clit.

“Yes.”

“Then beg me.”

She laughed, and he knew she saw it, too. The irony that he was begging her to beg.

He couldn’t help but smile at the game they were both playing. She could drag it out, but in the end, he would win. He’d have her begging for him by sunrise. And when she did, he would be more than happy to oblige. As for now…

She moaned as he slid the dress down over her hips and thighs so that it fell to the floor, leaving her naked in his arms. “Cold,” she whispered, and he gathered her closer, then bent his mouth to her ear.

“Will it sound too cliché if I tell you I’ll warm you up?”

He felt her soft laughter against the palms that again cupped her breasts. “Maybe,” she whispered. “But what’s a little cliché between friends?”

“You make a good point.” He kept his left palm firmly over her breast but went exploring with his right. Teasing her nipple. Feeling the weight of her breast against his palm. Trailing his fingers down her soft skin, then tracing a fingertip over the pattern of her ribs. Her body was perfect. Not so thin that he could injure himself on a bone. Not so athletic that sex felt like an Olympic try-out, but also not so soft that she had no stamina and was content to simply lay beneath him like a fuckable pillow.

On the contrary, Bree responded with an enthusiasm that made him ache even more. That seemed to fuel the desire for her that he’d tamped down for over a year. Her bare ass writhed against his denim-clad cock. Her hands closed over his as he teased her breast. Not to stop him, but to move with him. As if she couldn’t bear to not feel what he was feeling. To need what he needed.

Her breath was shaky, broken by soft murmurs of yes and please, and the way she wriggled against him only made the torture more sweetly intense. It took all his strength not to bend her over and fuck her from behind. To tease her clit as he thrust his cock deep inside her. To make her explode in his arms, screaming his name so that it echoed out over all of Vegas.

But that was against the rules. He wouldn’t fuck her until she begged.

And when she begged, this would be over.

Would it?