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Irish put up a brief fight before realising it was him. “What the fuck, Slick?” she demanded furiously.
“Yeah, Irish. What the hell. Wanna tell me why a fuckin’ Fang just left your room?” Slick spat.
“You’re spying on me?” Irish nearly shrieked.
“Seems I got reason to.”
“You lowlife!”
Slick crowded Irish against a wall, alert to any defensive moves she might make. He wanted answers and wasn’t going to leave without them, and Irish’s smart mouth was not getting her out of shit.
“I’ve every reason to be suspicious. You turn up whenever Rage is attacked, which means inside knowledge. Your weak assed excuse that you offered at the café isn’t gonna cut it this time. I want answers,” Slick growled out.
Her body was flush against his, and Slick was having trouble controlling his dick. And from the look in Irish’s eyes, she was turned on by his actions.
“You have answers. I’m on Rage’s side, and you know why,” she hissed.
“And I just watched a Fang walk out of here. Who is he? What is he to you?” Slick snarled.
“What he is to me is my secret. It’s got fuck all to do with you,” Irish retorted.
Sick growled and, without a second thought, slammed his lips down on hers. Irish responded immediately. Her mouthfused to his, and her hands clenched in his hair. Slick used his body to keep her in place as he plundered her mouth.
“Tell me,” Slick demanded, breaking the kiss.
“The fuck I will,” Irish spat in return.
Slick bent his head angrily and leaned into her body, kissing her again. Irish kissed him back with as much anger.
Slick groaned and, swept her up into his arms, and carried her to the bed. Without preamble, he threw her on it and kicked off his boots before covering her body with his. He kissed her, his hands holding her head still.
“Tell me.”
“Fuck you,” Irish panted.
Slick growled and tore her tee open. His hands shunted under her back, and he lifted her up to staddle his thighs.
His cock dug into her as he rained kisses down upon her exposed neck and breasts.
Irish’s fingers clutched his shoulders as she leaned to allow for his ministrations. Her pelvis ground against his. She used the friction of her jeans to ease the heat between her legs.
Slick’s fingers deftly undid her bra, and he tossed it onto the floor.
“Tell me!” he ordered again as he swooped on her breasts. They were perfect and fit just right into his hands. Her nipples were a dusky pink and hard little bullets demanding his attention. Slick was only too happy to play. One hand slid down her back, cupping her ass and forcing her pelvis even closer to his. “Feel that heat? That’s me and you. Now tell me.” Slick wasn’t giving up.
“Fuck you, asshole,” Irish retorted.
Slick grunted and shoved her on the bed. His hands went to her jeans, undid them, and slid them down her legs.
Irish wore nothing but a pair of plain cotton white panties. On anyone else, they were boring, but on Irish, they werestrangely arousing. Irish forced herself onto her elbows as Slick settled between her thighs and sank his mouth into her.
Her panties were soaked, and he growled at the sweet smell. She was like nothing he’d ever experienced. All fire and passion wrapped up in one angry, sexy package. And he wanted to break her open, discover her secrets, make her trust him. He moved her underwear as his mouth sought her opening. His finger rubbed against her nub, the cotton adding to the friction. Slick’s tongue teased as little cries erupted from Irish. He knew a woman’s body, and he sensed when she was about to erupt and pulled away.
A cry of denial left her lips as her angry gaze latched onto his.
“Tell me!” Slick ordered.
Fire burst into Irish’s eyes, and in one movement, she had him on his back. Her deft fingers released his belt and yanked his jeans halfway down his thighs. Without a word, Irish settled herself over his exposed cock and smirked at him. She slid a condom on and positioned herself.
