She lifted a shoulder, as if she didn’t much care. But the gold flames in her eyes told a different story.
So I let go of her wrists and reached for the hem of her T-shirt, tugging gently on the fabric to indicate what I wanted, keeping my attention on her face.
Another flicker of uncertainty, but then she leaned forward and slowly raised her arms, letting me pull the cotton up and over her head, taking her bra with it, so at last she was sitting in her seat completely naked.
Then I put my hands on the armrests again and I looked, taking my time, letting my gaze track down, over the slight, sweet curves of her perfect tits with their pretty pink and rapidly hardening nipples. Then the graceful indentation of her waist and the curving plane of her stomach. Down further to the flare of her hips and her rounded thighs.
Beautiful. Absolutely fucking beautiful.
She trembled, but didn’t move. Didn’t cover herself. She’d gone bright red, but she didn’t look away, either.
Brave girl.
But I wanted to see more.
I put my hands on her knees, spreading them apart, watching for any sign of resistance, but there was none. So I pushed them wider, my gaze falling hungrily to the tantalising nest of dark curls and pink flesh.
So fucking pretty. And she was wet, too, I could see the slick gleam of moisture on her skin.
Desire pulsed through me, thick and hot, the ache in my groin becoming demanding.
‘Yes,’ I said roughly. ‘You like me looking at you, don’t you?’
She shifted on the seat, her chin lifting higher. ‘Maybe. And so?’
‘So?’ I let the hunger show in my voice, throwing the challenge right back at her. ‘Show me more. Show me that pretty little pussy of yours.’ I rested my weight on my hands and leaned in, the scent of her arousal sweet and musky in the air, the heat of her body making me ache to touch her. ‘Show me how wet you are.’
Her skin was a fiery red, but her chin firmed, the gold in her gaze leaping higher.
Desire wrapped its hands around my throat, choking me, because if that wasn’t the look of a woman accepting a challenge, I didn’t know what was.
Christ, she had courage. And a backbone of pure steel.
She lifted her hands and then—little witch—put them on her hips, sliding them down slowly and watching me as she did so, as if gauging my response. I didn’t hold back, showing her what her sexy show was doing to me and she liked that. She liked that a lot, desire flickering over her face as she stared at me.
As if that was a goad, she slid her hands lower, between her spread thighs, her fingers firm on her own slick flesh as she gently eased apart the wet, pink folds of her pussy, holding them there.
My fingers dug into the leather of the armrests, the need to dive right in, put my mouth on her, my hands on her, almost all-consuming. I ached like a motherfucker and my mouth watered. But I stayed where I was, enjoying the view.
‘Beautiful.’ My voice had gone low and rough. ‘All pink and wet. You really like me looking, don’t you?’
She shivered, her breathing uneven, her gaze hot and focused on mine. ‘Yes. Seen enough, yet?’
‘No, not nearly enough.’ I glanced down at the lovely sight of her spread thighs, at the petal pink of her sex and the gleam of moisture on her skin, the sheen of it on her fingers. ‘Is this all for me?’
‘Y-yes,’ she said thickly.
My own heartbeat was loud in my head, a thudding, insistent rhythm. I was used to taking what I wanted when I wanted it. I never had to wait. But now, here with her, I wanted to.
If it added to her pleasure I’d wait till kingdom fucking come.
I met her hazel eyes. ‘And what would you like me to do about it?’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ellie
MY HEART WAS beating so loudly I could hardly hear anything, and I was shaking, hardly able to breathe through the intense hunger that had me in its grip.
Mr Evans was kneeling in front of my seat, gripping onto the arms, his knuckles white. His scarred face was fierce with the same hunger that was rising in me, his eyes electric on mine.
Sitting there with my legs spread, holding myself open for him, I’d never felt so vulnerable and yet so weirdly powerful in all my life.
Doing this was pushing him hard and I knew it. In fact, I could see how close to the edge he was—he didn’t hide it. Yet he wasn’t moving.
He had all the strength and yet, strangely, I had all the power.
I’d been hesitant about him looking at me at first, and, to be honest, uncomfortable and a bit scared. Because I’d hated how Mark had done the same thing, staring at me as if I was something he wanted to eat.
But I didn’t hate Mr Evans looking at me.
I didn’t hate it at all.
Not when I could see how hard he was holding himself back. All that strength was tightly leashed, the power of him humming in the air around him like a force field, yet he didn’t release it. He kept it in check.
Kept himself in check.
He’d said this was different, but I hadn’t realised how different until now. I hadn’t realised how much I liked him looking at me until now either.
Being desired wasn’t something I’d wanted, and yet... I wanted to be desired by him. More, I wanted to keep pushing him, to see how far I could go, where his boundaries were, because he must have them.
A dangerous game, perhaps?
Maybe, but then I’d always been a fan of danger and the adrenaline rush.
‘Well?’ he demanded, the rough edge in his voice making me shiver in delight. ‘Tell me what you want.’
‘I want you to keep looking.’ I sounded just as rough as he did. ‘Keep watching.’
A muscle flickered in his impressive jaw. ‘What are you going to do, pretty?’
‘I’ll show you.’ And without taking my gaze from his, I shifted one of my hands, sliding my finger over my clit, sending electricity firing through my body like a switch being thrown.
Instantly his attention dropped to my hand and what I was doing, that muscle in his jaw jumping again as I slid my finger around my clit once more, rubbing gently.
Pleasure uncurled inside me, a sweet ache made all the more intense by the way he followed every move I made.
I’d done this in bed at night, when I couldn’t sleep, when I was feeling restless. Before Mark it had been for fun, but after, I’d done it to try and make myself feel better, to reclaim my feelings for myself.
I thought it had worked, but right now, with Mr Evans watching me, I knew it hadn’t. This was better than anything I could give myself. Because Mr Evans’s electric gaze didn’t simply blaze over memories of Mark staring at me fixedly during that horrible Christmas party, it replaced those memories entirely.
Instead of powerlessness and an oily, sick feeling, I felt strong, pleasure humming in my veins. Making me want to keep going, push him even more, wipe out those memories so I’d never think of Mark again.
I’d never backed down from a challenge, so I kept going.
I slid one finger inside, going slowly, making sure he watched as I did, lifting my hips and spreading my thighs wider so he got a good view. It felt incredible, pleasure licking up my spine as I watched the flames in his eyes leap high.
His expression was taut, his jaw hard, and I could almost feel the tension in his body myself. He was still holding himself back and yet it was getting difficult for him.
Satisfaction unwound inside me and I slid my finger out then back in again, feeling my own wetness and heat, allowing myself to give in to the sheer pleasure of it. To having this powerful man watch me as I touched myself, taut and hungry and not able to touch me. Because I had said so.
I arched back in my seat, moaning as I moved my finger faster, rubbing at my clit with my other hand, watching him from
beneath my lashes, his gaze fixed between my legs.
I added another finger and he growled, a rumble coming from deep in his chest, a rough, hungry sound. ‘You like to push, don’t you?’
‘No fun otherwise.’ I panted, shifting again, moving my hips in time with my hand, electric ripples of pleasure moving through me and making me gasp.
The blunt, scarred lines of his face became set, his knuckles white where he gripped the armrests. His nostrils flared as if he’d scented me, his focus intensifying.
Was he near the edge? Was he going to go over like I was? Because I would and very quickly if I wasn’t careful. Watching him watch me was unbelievably erotic and it wouldn’t take much to send me flying.
But I wanted to see him break first.
I lifted one leg, hooking it over the armrest, brushing the back of his hand, opening myself up wider so he could get an even better view. And he growled again, a low, rough warning, flashing me a brief, electric glance that told me he was hanging by a thread.
Exhilaration gripped me, like throwing a car around the track, foot to the floor, seeing how fast you could go and still stay in control. Stay in command.
Go faster.
I arched in my seat, sinking both fingers deep inside, moaning softly at the pleasure that rolled through me, letting my thigh rest heavily against the back of his hand.
He cursed, filthy and low. ‘Miss Little, keep playing with fire and you’re going to get burned.’
‘Why?’ I panted. ‘Am I too much for you?’
And just like that, the warning in his eyes blazed into intent. He shifted, reaching for the hand between my thighs and pulling it away. Then he lifted my slick fingers and drew them into his mouth.
The suddenness of the movement and the heat of his tongue around my fingers stole every breath I had.
I gasped as he began to slowly and methodically suck, his gaze on mine. The pressure was gentle and yet I felt it intensely, as if he were sucking on something else. Something far more sensitive.
I shuddered, my breathing getting faster, the unfulfilled ache between my thighs acute. I wanted to come but suddenly I didn’t want to make myself do it. I wanted him to do it for me.
And he must have known that, must have read it in my gaze, because he took my hand from his mouth and placed it down on one of the armrests. ‘Hold on,’ he ordered. ‘Don’t let go.’
Excitement wound through me and part of me wanted to argue with him. But I wanted his touch more, so I obeyed, shivering as he did the same with my other hand, before holding both hands down by covering them with his own. Then he gave me one blazing glance, before he leaned forward and buried his head between my spread thighs.
Fire burst along every nerve ending I had.
I arched in the seat, crying out as he pushed his tongue into me, a hard thrust that nearly tipped me over the edge. But not quite. I groaned, shivering all over, the pleasure of it indescribable.
I’d never had a man do this to me, had never felt the rough prickle of his stubble against my inner thighs, or the pressure of his tongue in my pussy. It was incredible, the pleasure almost painful in its intensity.
Then he pulled back, his tongue beginning to explore me, licking me with broad, flat strokes, before finding my clit and teasing.
He seemed to know exactly how far to push without giving me exactly what I wanted, stopping before I fell over the edge, pushing me every bit as badly as I’d pushed him.
It was payback, I got that. But it was the kind of payback I was more than happy with. Well, if I hadn’t been so impatient, that was.
‘Please...’ I gasped as he flicked my clit with his tongue. ‘Oh, Mr Evans, please...’
His voice was a low vibration against my inner thigh. ‘Ash, pretty thing. You’re going to have to start calling me Ash, because no one calls their boyfriend Mr.’ A blaze of blue met mine. ‘Unless it’s in bed.’
Through the haze of pleasure, I understood. Just. ‘A-Ash,’ I managed, trying it out as I squirmed and shifted beneath the pressure of his tongue. ‘Please...’ I tried to lift my hands but he was holding them down and didn’t let me.
‘Please what? You have to tell me what you want.’
‘Please make me come. Oh, please...’
He didn’t reply, merely turned his attention back between my thighs, covering my pussy with his mouth. Then he went to work on my clit, teasing and licking, nipping too, just a little, the pain slight and yet so sweet I couldn’t stop the cry of pleasure it dragged from me.
And then one more flick of his tongue and I was gone, bucking in my seat, arching and shifting as the pleasure rocketed through me, turning me into a human firework, bursting me into flames right where I sat.
I didn’t know how long it was before I came down from the high, my body pulsing, my heartbeat roaring in my ears, my breathing wild.
But then his hands were on me and I was being gathered up from the seat and into his arms, taken over to the low couch on the opposite side of the cabin. He bent and laid me carefully down onto it before putting one hand on either side of my head and leaning over me, staring down into my eyes. The expression on his face stole my breath, the hunger for me burning bright in his gaze.
Yes, I’d pushed him. I’d pushed him right to the edge and over it. He’d broken. He’d touched me and I couldn’t help feeling as if, somehow, I’d won this round.
It made me want to test him again.
‘I want you,’ he said roughly, without any preliminaries. ‘In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to fuck anyone as badly as I want to fuck you right now. But this is about you, not me. Your pleasure, not mine. So if you don’t want—’
I reached up and put a finger across his hard mouth, silencing him. Then I said huskily, ‘Fuck me, Mr Evans.’
Wildfire blazed in his eyes and for a second I thought he was going to take me there and then. But he pushed himself away and straightened to his full height. Then he began to get rid of his clothing, watching me all the while, stripping his T-shirt off and dropping it to the floor, his hand dropping to the buttons of his jeans.
I couldn’t drag my gaze from him, running over the wide, powerful planes of his bare chest, the hard, cut muscle of his abs, the flex and release of his biceps as he undid his jeans.
He was a beautiful man and I couldn’t stop looking as he took his time undoing his fly, teasing me as I’d teased him.
‘This is payback, right?’ I asked thickly as he shoved his jeans down and off.
‘It might be.’ He straightened, naked now and totally magnificent, the whole cabin full of his fierce hunger and electrical presence.
My mouth dried as I looked down his brutally powerful body to where his cock stood out, hard and huge, curving up to his corrugated stomach. I pushed myself up, my hands itching to touch him, but he must have known what I wanted because he gave one firm shake of his head. ‘Just lie there, pretty thing. No touching me quite yet, not if you want my cock.’ He bent to get his wallet out of his jeans, extracting a condom before tossing everything back down on the floor. Then he ripped open the packet with his teeth and rolled down the latex with a couple of powerful, efficient movements, before coming over to where I lay on the couch.
I was panting now, the ache between my thighs building once more, desperate to touch him, to feel him against me. I spread my legs as he got onto the couch, reaching up to him as he positioned himself over me, my hands sliding over the smooth skin of his powerful shoulders.
God, he was amazing. All that strength leashed and contained for me. All of that pleasure for me, too.
I didn’t know why I was important enough that my experience with Mark mattered to him, but I wasn’t going to question it, not now. The fact that it did matter was enough.
That what I wanted mattered enough. Because it had been a long time since that had happened, too.
I couldn’t read the look in his eyes as he slid his hands beneath my butt and lifted me, fitting the blunt head of his cock into my body. But something in it burned. He was so intense, almost too much to look at directly.
But I watched him as I felt him push inside me, thick, hot and hard, feeling my own flesh part before his, straining to accommodate him. I shuddered, gasping, digging my nails into the hard muscle of his shoulders.
He didn’t look away from me, not once, sinking deep and making me shudder and groan because he was big. But I’d taken him before and I took him now, tilting my hips so he could go deeper, wrapping my legs around his lean waist and arching up. My nipples scraped deliciously over his hard chest, the prickle of hair an added delight.
‘God,’ I whispered, looking up into his eyes. ‘You feel amazing...’
The ferocity in his expression stole my breath. He didn’t answer, only leaned down and covered my mouth with his, kissing me hard, an edge of desperation in it that I didn’t quite understand.
I could taste myself on his lips, but I didn’t care. It was like spice added to an already hot dish, building the heat even higher, and I kissed him back, hungry as he was.
He nipped on my bottom lip as he moved, lifting his hands to the arm of the couch behind my head and gripping it, then using it as leverage as he thrust hard, then harder still. Deep then deeper.
I could barely think now, the pleasure getting larger and larger inside me, the pressure of it becoming more and more intense.
Too much.
Dimly in some part of my brain I heard the warning. But I was too far gone to listen to it. The ecstasy of having him inside me, the furious pace he was setting too irresistible. I didn’t want to stop it.
I didn’t want it to end.
The heat of him was all around me, inside me. The heady musky scent of male arousal and clean sweat was an aphrodisiac that I’d never dreamt would turn me on as much as it was doing. And it was.
I slid my hands down his powerful back, feeling his hard body surge into me, digging my nails into his skin, holding on tight as he drove us both to the edge.
The Debt Page 11
