Shark's Edge

by Angel Payne, Victoria Blue

  In answer, he turned the flat of his tongue into a searing sweep along the front of my neck. My long moan was his vibrating reward, but he didn’t halt the sweet assault. Down he trailed, to the ridge of my collarbone. “So delicious,” he murmured along that oh-so-sensitive ridge. “So perfect.”

  And clearly, the man was just getting started. Sebastian worked my lips apart with a spearing invasion and then circled his tongue with mine in hot, thorough domination while he claimed every moan I could spare, every mewl I could manage, every tremble I could muster. As he did so with the twisting, meshing, searing proof of his passion—a hunger I never knew any man was capable of possessing, much less expressing with this fire and fury and lust.

  It was so good.

  So damn good.

  No. It was beyond that. I was dizzy. Floating. Then falling. Completely limp in his arms, confirmed by the brazen smile defining his beautiful mouth as soon as he pulled away and stared at me through half-lidded eyes.

  “You are a feast fit for a king, Abbigail.”

  A new smile quirked my lips. “Whatever you say, Your Majesty.”

  “Hmmm . . . ” He stood taller, finally loosening his hold—though not before making me yelp from his possessive smack to my backside. “Glad we’re in agreement.”

  I freed a laugh as he slid one of his hands into mine. “Dear God, you’re a piece of work.”

  “So I’ve been told.” He tugged me across the room, toward his desk. “A piece of artwork, actually. I think the exact words were ‘a masterpiece carved by the angels.’”

  “Now that sounds like one I need to research more. For verification purposes, of course.”

  “Of course.” He glanced over his shoulder, the arrogant smile still in place. “And while we’re on the subject of fulfilling that goal . . . ” He sank into the big executive chair, scooting it away from the dinged-up bookcase with practiced grace. In the same motion, he hauled me all the way down into his lap. “There are a few things you need to see here.”

  “And a few things I need to feel, as well?” The line popped out before I could help it, courtesy of something else that was popping up from between his thighs. It was a little unnerving, how perfectly his erection notched against my core.

  “Oh, yeah . . . ” While his comeback was smooth, his breathing wasn’t. He expelled that ragged air against my lips before clutching my face and compelling me into another tongue-filled tangle. Holy shit, the man did this stuff really well. And the steamy après-kiss stare thing too.

  At last, he broke our silence again. “Thank you,” he murmured, cupping his hand to the back of my neck. His fingertips toyed with the ends of my apron ties.

  “For what?” I was genuinely curious. Shouldn’t that have been the other way around?

  “For . . . ” He stopped, seeming to catch himself. His eyebrows crunched inward. “Well, for letting me haul you all the way back up here.”

  I was damn near sure it wasn’t his original pick of confessions, but the acknowledgment was nice. Really nice. “My pleasure. Though I didn’t quite have a choice about it.”

  “Truth.” His smirk was a perfect cocktail of sexy and smug. “But at least I got the chance to practice my manners a bit more.”

  “Ah, yes.” I beamed a wider smile, enjoying how it made his crotch swell against my ass cheeks. “Well, you’re doing beautifully, I might add.”

  “And you are a quick study in acquiescence.”

  My heart hammered harder. “That . . . uhhh . . . reminds me.” I straightened as much as was possible, given our positions. “There’s something we should prob—”

  “Hold that thought.” His firmness made it an order, but his enthusiasm made it a seduction. He turned his head, jiggling the mouse to wake up all three of his monitors. “For the record, I don’t usually go paging the security office to recall elevators. There was a real method to my madness.”

  “Besides needing to kiss me until the room turned upside down?”

  “Well . . . besides that,” he volleyed, as if I’d just told him his suit looked nice.

  With an equally confident nod, he directed my attention toward the screen in front of us.

  For the three seconds before my astounded outcry.

  “Sebastian.”

  Each of the monitors was consumed by a different image of high-end luxury. One was a tropical canyon centered on a small palace, similar in architecture to the one he owned. The next looked like a mountain chalet, complete with a courtyard waterfall. The last was a seaside villa with a negative-edge pool overlooking a deserted beach.

  “Was that a gasp of pleasure or horror?”

  I flipped my gawk from the monitors back to his face—where the subtle worry in his eyes kept my attention glued. “You’re kidding, right?”

  His cocky smirk returned in its heart-halting resplendence. “Which one do you like best?” he asked softly. “They’re all available this weekend, so I want you to have the final vote. If you want to see more pictures, I can pull those up too.”

  “I—I’m not sure . . . ” I looked closer, noting the URL at the top of each search referred to something called privateluxury.net with a substring that said sharkbite3000. From there, I snapped the pieces together. He didn’t want to sweep me away for the weekend. He wanted to sweep me away for the weekend.

  “Hey.” He rubbed my back reassuringly. “Don’t stress about this, okay? These places have screened their staff for decorum and discretion.”

  “With three-page NDA forms?”

  I made the joke evident in my tone, but Sebastian’s nod was all business. “Likely. As well as additional training on top of that for things like security awareness and service standards.”

  “Of course. I mean, that’s a given, right?”

  A low chuckle from him now, appreciating my jest, before he started nibbling at my neck again. “I guarantee you, Abbigail, there will be a lot of things given on this trip.”

  Shockingly, I was able to form some actual words into a response. “That sounds like a really good agenda.”

  “Hmmm, yes.” He hummed it into my ear. “So let me enlighten you about the options.” He clicked first onto the mansion that looked like his place. “This one’s the closest. Palm Springs. It’s hotter than Satan’s balls out there right now though, so clothes aren’t a concern.”

  “At—at all?” I squeaked.

  “At. All.” He nipped at the curve of my jaw. “And hey, look at this. The master bed is on a rotating dais. We can get . . . creative . . . with positions.”

  Hard swallow. “P-Positions?”

  “Oh, definitely. What’s your favorite, baby?”

  “I . . . uh . . . hadn’t really thought about it.” Not a lie. Not by a long shot.

  “Well, there’s your homework before we go. I want top three by the time we leave on Friday.”

  “Wh-What’s the next one?” I used the question as an excuse to calm my throbbing sex. The wicked fantasies he’d started spinning—especially the totally naked part—had turned me into a glob of helpless arousal. I liked it. I hated it. Oh, God, I was a mess.

  Even more so as he moved on to the Alpine Chalet.

  “Ahhhh. The Tahoe place. Just an hour or so by jet,” he explained. “But once we’re there”—he advanced through photos of a modern-themed place bordered by thick evergreens—“also completely private. Probably a good thing, because I’d want to bury myself inside you on that table . . . and on that stairway . . . and in front of that fireplace . . . and—”

  “And what’s the last one?” A real rush now, since the thought of him screwing me on the deep rug in front of that fireplace was equivalent to jamming a hand down my pants and stroking myself.

  “Playa del Carmen, in Cancun. A longer plane ride but worth it. Right along the water, with some very . . . interesting . . . architecture.”

  My breathing halted as he clicked through the images. Many contained pieces of heavy wooden furniture that were definitely not d
esigned for simple relaxation. One big apparatus even had a curved leather swing device hanging from it, with cuffs strategically placed at the sides.

  “Uhhh . . . yes,” I finally grated as my imagination took that kinky ball and sprinted with it. Right away, my mind’s eye was consumed with the idea of being suspended in that thing, with Sebastian’s naked form fitted between my legs. His fine, muscled buttocks would flex and release with every new thrust into me. He’d go harder and harder as his desire spiraled . . . and mine along with it . . . “Inter . . . esting,” I blurted. “Ah . . . yes.”

  His satisfied chuckle was a dim sound against the roaring blood in my ears “That settles it. Playa del Carmen, here we come.” He placed a quick but sensual kiss on my mouth. “Hopefully, in a bunch of different ways.”

  I dared to take the lead on initiating our new kiss. One, because I couldn’t resist the allure of the man’s smiling lips. Two, because I knew he didn’t indulge in smiles very often. Well, not this kind. An expression that was authentic and true instead of a show he put on for others.

  It was that openness that I spoke to with the tender touch of my lips. It was what he returned to me in his silken caress along my nape and his velvety groan into my throat.

  It was magical—nearly surreal.

  I was moved.

  And inspired.

  Enough to take a deep breath and finally murmur, “Mexico sounds . . . really awesome.”

  His grin kicked higher. “Awesome is only the start, baby.” And his growl dipped lower, vibrating through my chest as he loosened the knot behind my neck, dropped my apron, and delved his face into the V of my T-shirt. “And I’m going to start the trip by freeing these beautiful mounds as soon as we get on the plane.” He nosed his way inside, just beneath the edge of my left bra cup. “Abbigail, you’re a constant, vibrant revelation.”

  “R-Revelation?” I stammered. “I—I’m not sure I under—”

  “Don’t worry.” The adoration in his voice was like a physical caress. “In all the best ways, I promise.” He stretched his tongue, flicking my nipple . . . igniting every cell of my blood. “Christ. Look at you. Look at these tits, so erect and stunning. You make me feel like a virgin again. No, even better. Back to third grade again. These definitely put Miss Dandelion to shame.”

  “I’m . . . I’m glad they please you.”

  “I’m positive all of you is going to please me, Little Red.”

  “I can’t wait to please you in a lot of ways, Mr. Shark.”

  “And I can’t wait to fuck you in just as many ways, Ms. Gibson.”

  I gasped as he unclasped my bra with his teeth. But it was an exclamation of mixed sensations—especially as I swallowed hard while tangling my hands into his thick hair. “Then you’ll get to be my revelation.”

  He growled out a chuckle into my bare cleavage. “That so? Tell me about it, baby.”

  “Well . . . ” I let go of his hair as he dragged his stare up. His bold features and thick stubble were mind-meltingly beautiful, even in the garish fluorescent lighting. My prince. The thought was reassuring. He was my prince, worthy of entrusting with my deepest secrets. “The . . . virgin part.”

  Between one breath and the next, all his warmth vanished.

  Between the next two seconds, so did mine.

  I broke out in an all-over shiver. Sebastian did nothing. Said nothing.

  “Is that going to be . . . a problem?” I attempted to insert some humor by diving into my best BBC anchor accent and quipping, “You know, a few hundred years ago, a gentleman of your ilk would pay a hefty purse for my—”

  Sebastian lurched to his feet, toppling me down from his lap to the corner of his desk before spinning away. “Well, I’m not a fucking gentleman,” he spewed, balling his hands into fists against his nape while coming to a violent stop next to the coffee table. “Of any goddamned ilk.”

  “Fine.” I pushed at his chair with a foot, adding a fresh set of nicks to the unit behind it. “Just to be clear, I’m not asking you to pay for it.”

  “To be equally clear, that’s not exactly a deal-breaker for me.”

  “Wow,” I spat past viciously stinging eyes. “Let’s alert the press about that one. Oh, wait. Someone already did.”

  He jerked back around. Our glares directly clashed again. “Well, that was swinging low.”

  I lurched off the desk, letting my arms spread wide. “It’s not like you’re unfamiliar with the equipment involved. Maybe if you just practice some patience while warming it up—”

  With a burst of a roar, he shut down my rant.

  With a couple of wide stomps, he was back in front of the desk.

  And with a swoop of strength, he had me splayed on my back across the top of it.

  Two of the three monitors crashed to the floor. His keyboard and pen cup followed.

  “Oh!” I cried, but not in distress. In welcome. Yes, of all of it. His unbridled anger. His ruthless power. His fierce retaliation. His blatant frustration.

  He pressed his full weight atop me, and the folds at my core ached to the point of torture.

  Yesss.

  “Obviously, you need me to be clearer about this, Little Red.” He clutched my wrists in tighter increments. “I am a very patient man, Abbigail—especially when it comes to warming up the . . . ‘equipment.’”

  He used the heels of his hands to maintain the pressure of his hold while shifting his thumbs up until he was driving them into the center of my palms.

  “But let’s be clear. Once I get a woman warm, I don’t stop until she’s hot. Until she’s wailing. And begging. And screaming for me to use her body.” He lowered until our breaths tangled and our noses nearly touched. “Do you understand, Abbi? I tear women up. I break them apart.”

  “I . . . I understand. I . . . I w-want that.”

  A ferocious rumble broke from his chest. A visible change in his gaze, the cobalt shadows hardening into a thousand shards of glass. The swollen rod fitted between my legs thickening into a hot hammer of lust.

  And my answering breaths, doubling in their tempo of need as his lips parted. His stare sharpened.

  Oh, God. I got it now. I really understood.

  My helplessness turned him on. Worse, it turned me on.

  “You don’t want this, Abbigail. Not from me, you don’t.”

  “Why?” I spewed. “Because you’re that convinced you’ll break me? Is that it? Or is that now a convenient way to skew this?”

  He clenched his jaw and ripped his glare through more of my defenses. “You think it’s my easy out?” He slowly shook his head. “Christ.”

  I wanted to echo the word—with joyous thanks. It was the moment I’d prayed for but didn’t think would come. His own vulnerability. And yes, it was only a tiny chink in his armor, but I’d take it. Would work the angle whatever way I could.

  With gentle focus, I lifted my fingertips to his jaw. In a purposeful rasp, I pleaded, “Sebastian.”

  But I barely got the whole word out before he whipped his head back and out of my reach. His whole body followed.

  “Do you think I’m enjoying a second of this, Abbigail?” He crunched through the electronic wreckage, turning his computer keys into plastic shrapnel. “Do you think I haven’t tried to be the guy worthy of your pretty whispers? To be a normal bastard who can screw in time to slow jazz and ocean waves instead of a deviant who can’t get off until I’ve pounded the whites from a woman’s eyes?”

  I sat up, my fresh circulation bringing a new throb to my wrists and palms. I couldn’t ignore the matching rhythm in my sex. “Eye whites are overrated.” My bloodstream was pure fire now. Raw hunger. Consuming need. Even now, with raging tears coursing down my overheated cheeks, every drop of my blood was ablaze for him. My whole body clamored and cried for his.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “Because now you’re the expert on me?” I spat back.

  He chuffed. “Well, that’s clearly not the case.�
��

  “Meaning what?” I demanded.

  Sebastian turned back around with rough steps. He kneaded his neck and looked me in the eyes. “You’re really still a virgin?”

  I was glad for a chance to laugh, even if it was drier than gluten-free bread. “I think I’d know if I’d checked off that box.”

  “Checked off the box.” Bafflement twisted his beautiful face. “So, that’s what it is to you, then? Just a little square to be stamped?”

  “Isn’t it?” His immediate glower had me visibly prickling. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you burned your V card with any more ceremony.”

  He jutted his chin. Dear God, he had one of the most perfect jawlines on the planet. “That was different,” he answered, looking away.

  “How?”

  “I was a teenager!”

  “And things would’ve been different if you were my age?”

  A new huff. “Well, that never would’ve happened.”

  “Then go with me for a second. Use that imagination I’d bet is very capable. Would things have been different?”

  He rubbed his furrowed forehead with his thumb and forefinger. “No,” he finally growled. “I doubt it would have been any different.”

  “But for me it should be? Why? Because I’m a woman?”

  “You’re damning me no matter what answer I give here, Red.” His frustration morphed into resignation.

  But I couldn’t drop the subject. He needed to hear my point. “I’m a woman who has been focused on learning my craft and building my career instead of taking time for a full-on relationship.”

  Sebastian yanked in a sharp hiss, pointing at me with gusto. “And there it is.”

  “There what is?”

  “The word,” he bit back.

  “What word?”

  “Relationship.”

  “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  “Do you think that’s what this is right now, Little Red?” He spoke it like an accusation, and I was pretty sure he meant it like one too. “Between us?”