Page 143 of Cozen

“Your little gift was more than enough to keep him in line.”

Sargon sneered. “I hoped you would use it.”

“How could I not?”

“I wasn’t sure, Zen.”

She had never been surer.

Cozen pulled him in for another kiss, but it was not soft or sweet like the first one. No, it was hard and harsh and oh, so hot. A searing seal of his unspoken promises, and all the things she hadn’t said or told him yet.

Things she may never say.

Things she couldn’t say yet.

Cozen blinked, and she was lifted from the floor before her backside was set down roughly on the desk. Sargon’s hands—warm with calloused fingertips—skipped under the slit of her dress, and grabbed tight to her thighs.

He didn’t even have to ask.

He didn’t have to make her.

She opened up for him.

She wanted him.

Those teasing, skilled fingers of his slipped beneath the thin scrap of lace covering her sex, and stroked her pussy. He knew her body too well—played it like an instrument that belonged to only him.

In no time at all, with only his fingertips toying with her clit, and teasing the slit of her pussy, she was wet, hot, and begging for him.

God, she needed him.

Never once had their kiss broken until that moment. And he only pulled away just long enough to kiss her jaw, and then where her pulse raced at her throat. He shoved his pants down, and she was the one who grabbed his already rock-hard length out of his slacks.

One stroke.

Two.

On the third, he grunted into her kiss, and his hips came forward. Those fingertips of his dug tighter into her thighs.

Replacing someone else’s touch.

Remarking her.

Making it better again.

Cozen didn’t even bother to slip her panties off. She just hiked up the skirt of her evening gown, shoved the gusset of her thong aside, and finally got Sargon where she wanted him. Where he always needed to be.

Fucking her.

Deep in her.

Always with her.

That first thrust sent her to heaven. The second sent her sprawling back on the desk as she tried to catch her breath. He didn’t give her time to react properly before he was pounding into her relentlessly. The smell of sex was already clinging heavily to the air, and the slap of skin against skin mingled in with their harsh breaths, and quiet murmurs.

A fast, ruthless rhythm that had her cries of his name coming out broken and breathless within seconds. The man could fuck.

Jesus, could he fuck.