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“No. Fuck me.”
“Stand up.”
“Please.”
“Jesus! Skylar! Not like this!” In a burst of frustration he hadn’t even realized he had in him, he grabbed her and whipped her around, pulling her back up to standing and face-to-face with him before he even knew what he was doing. The sound of fabric ripping filled the sudden unexpected silence. She stood before him, chest heaving and eyes hard and cheeks red, one bra-clad breast exposed.
The bodice of her white silk blouse had been torn, a slash against her skin, and his fingers still gripped the ruined material. But the corners of her mouth quirked upward at the slightest bit of an angle.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gruff and full of air. He realized he was breathing heavily and that frustration pulsed through his veins.
“Sorry for what?” she panted.
“For ripping your blouse.”And for hating you for a moment,he thought but kept that to himself. He did, and he didn’t. Not really. He hated himself. Hated how wanting her made him feel almost weak, needy, desperate for her body, her words, her lips, which he had yet to taste. She’d cost him sleep for months. Her image was seared on his mind. Her scent forever in his nostrils, her taste always on his tongue. Damn. For three months, he’d been unable to close his eyes for even a moment without seeing her naked, quivering under his touch . . . black feathers and golden eyes and platinum blond hair spilling out on the bed around her.
Her gaze caught his. Held. Studied. He suddenly felt bare beneath her penetrating gaze. And then something warmed there, in those golden depths. And without a word, she lunged forward and crashed her lips to his.
It was their first kiss, but she barely gave him time to savor it before she bit his bottom lip. The sting from the bite and the pressure of her hips against his cock was enough to release the wild animal Julian had worked so hard to suppress. His fingers clawed at her clothes as her nails dug into the back of his neck. He ripped at the tear in the fabric until her blouse hung in tatters on her body and quickly disposed of her bra. Then his hands moved from silk to naked flesh, and he had to touch her everywhere, caress every inch of her skin, absorb her energy through his fingertips.
“Julian.” She yanked his jacket off and flung it away, then her fingers gripped the front of his shirt. Buttons flew to scatter across the floor. “I wish I’d never met you,” she gasped, then kissed him, tongue plundering, releasing, letting him in until she gasped for breath.
“And I wish I’d never talked to your pathetic fiancé,” he growled as she suddenly bent to her knees in front of him, tugging down his pants and briefs to release his cock. Her eyes widened as she stared at him, but she still managed to choke out, “Ex-fiancé. Emphasis on theexpart.”
He moaned as she scraped her nails hard and deep up his thighs, looking up at him from where she kneeled. She lingered, her lips near his twitching cock. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he imagined Skylar wrapping her hot, wet lips around its length.
“I wish I’d never let you take me up to that room,” she said.
Then, to his utter shock, she gave his balls a slap.
He growled and twisted fingers in her hair and, for a moment, held her there, mouth open and panting and so close to his cock
“Too much?” she taunted.
“Not enough,” he bit out.
She was right there, and all he had to do was let her suck him down. But not yet. He had more to say. He gently tugged her back to her feet, and then the gentleness ended. He ripped the remains of her blouse from her body and flung it to the side, then roughly unzipped her skirt and shoved it down her legs. She stepped out of the skirt and stood before him, naked except for the heels she wore and the proud yet furious expression on her face. Proud, furious, and oh so aroused.
God, damn. This woman triggered something in him no other woman ever had. Was it her wild but contradictory quest for both submission and control? The way her confidence pushed through her insecurities and shone in her eyes when she let it? The way she trusted him not to hurt her? How could he ever get her out of his system when this was all over and done with?
She grabbed his cock and scraped her nails along his sensitive head. He groaned in pain, in desire, in want. But he wouldn’t let her go. Wouldn’t let her move away from him. Not that she was trying.
“I wish I’d never seen your naked body,” he whispered in her ear, holding her head tight to his.
“I wish I’d never felt your tongue on my wet pussy.”
He pulled away then to stare at her with a knowing smile. “Bullshit.”
She licked her lips and stared up at him with that intoxicating expression of anger and lust, her pupils blown wide. “It’s true.”
He moved his head, so his lips just barely grazed her own. “You’re a liar. And you are the worst thing that has ever happened to me,” he murmured.
“Only one of those statements is true,” she challenged, then let out a cry of surprise when, in one smooth motion, he slung her naked body over his shoulder.
When she wriggled, trying to break free, he spanked her ass. Hard enough to sting and leave a mark but not so hard, he’d truly hurt her.
Her heels slipped off her feet, one after the other, as he carried her to his bedroom. Smoothly, he flipped her until she was on her back on the cool silk sheets and soft, airy mattress.
“You are going to come,” he told her as she laid there with her hair spread wildly around her, breasts heaving. So much like that first night. The night when he knew this woman wasn’t a job . . . she was a siren, casting her lure and calling him home.
