by Nina Croft
She came to a halt in front of him. God she was beautiful. One hand reached out, laid flat against his heart. Could she feel its frantic beat? Of course, she could. He held himself very still as she scraped her nails down his chest, then tucked one finger in his waistband.
“You sure you want to do this?” she murmured. “Aren’t you afraid Daddy will find out?”
No, he wasn’t. For some reason his father had orchestrated this meeting. He would find out why—but later. “I think Daddy gave you to me as a present.”
A frown flickered across her face; he was guessing the thought had occurred to her as well, but she banished it with a little shake of her head. She moved the hand that hovered over his groin and flicked a finger at the bandage on his shoulder. “And he had you gift wrapped for me. Nice.”
He’d had enough talk. He ached to be inside her. His dick was so hard, it pressed painfully against his fly, and holding her gaze he lowered his zipper, groaned at the relief.
Her tongue flashed out across her plump lower lip, leaving it glistening with moisture and his cock jerked in the confines of his boxers. He groaned again and her eyes flicked down, and then she closed the last distance between them.
Without touching him anywhere else, she went up on tiptoes and licked along his lower lip as she had done her own. Then she pressed her mouth against his and her body pushed up against him. Her arms locked on his shoulders, and she dragged him down and kissed him. The kiss was fierce—he could sense the barely leashed anger—and she shoved her tongue into his mouth as though she was fucking him. She’d always wanted to be the one in control, but he had always wrested it from her. Now he cupped her jaw in his hand, angled her chin, and took charge of the kiss. His tongue fought with hers, filling her mouth, taking possession.
She gave way beneath the pressure of his kiss, and he backed her up until she was against the wall, then kissed her some more, hot, wet kisses as though he could devour her, ravage her with his mouth and she gave as good as she got. Biting at his lips, fingernails digging into his shoulder.
He needed more, needed all of her. His free hand shifted between them, tearing at the buttons on her shirt so they scattered. At last, he pulled back from the kiss, his breathing ragged. He stared down at her; her skin was pale, almost luminescent, her breasts swelling above the plain white bra, her nipples pressing at the cotton. He lowered his head, nipped one with his teeth, and her back arched. She’d always liked her sex tinged with a little pain. Had said it made her feel alive. He bit down, harder this time, felt her hips jerk against him.
He tugged the shirt down her shoulders and dropped it to the floor, then slipped a hand behind her back and flicked open the catch on her bra, tossing it after the shirt. Her breasts were small but perfect, her nipples pink and swollen. He licked one until it glistened, then sucked the other into his mouth, and her spine arched again.
He rubbed his cock against her belly until his balls were close to exploding. He needed to be inside her and soon. First, there was something he wanted to see. He opened the button at her waist, lowered the zipper, and stroked the soft skin of her flat belly. As his fingers encountered the softness of her curls, he stopped.
“Turn around,” he murmured.
“What?” She sounded dazed, her eyelids fluttering.
“I want to see if you still belong to me.”
“I never belonged to you.” But the words lacked force and she allowed him to turn her slowly. He sank to his knees behind her, then tugged her pants down around her hips, taking the white cotton panties with them.
His cock pulsed—she had a lovely ass, round but firm and decorated with his name. Declan was written in fancy script and surrounded by black roses across her left buttock. He trailed a finger over it as his mind flew back to the night she’d gotten the tattoo done. How he’d tried not to be turned on by the fact she was getting his name inked onto her ass. She’d wanted him to get one as well, but he’d refused. Afterward, he’d taken her back to a hotel room and fucked her from behind because she was too sore to lie on her back.
He’d liked it that she’d marked herself as his, even while he’d known the ink would last far longer than the relationship.
Then he looked closer and went still. Something had been added to the tattoo, words almost hidden in the swirls surrounding it. He sat back on his heels. “Declan is a prick? You had Declan is a prick tattooed on your ass?”
He glanced up. She was peering at him over her shoulder, a smirk on her face. “I thought about getting it removed, but this seemed easier and somehow appropriate.”
“Witch.” Leaning closer, he kissed his name, then bit down hard on her soft flesh, felt a shiver run through her. He massaged the globes of her ass, then ran his hands down the long slender length of her thighs. She shifted, her stance widening and he breathed in the hot scent of excited woman. Even if she thought him a prick, she still wanted him. She raised her ass a little, as if offering it to him and he stroked back up, slipping his fingers inside until they met the warm heat of her sex. She was drenched, and he ran one finger over the length of her, finding her clit swollen with need. He circled the little nub, not quite touching, and her hips bucked against him. He pushed one finger inside. She was tight but so slick he entered easily, groaning as her muscles clamped around him. He rubbed at her inner walls, found the spot that had always driven her wild, and pressed upward. A gasp escaped her, and she moaned as he withdrew.
He straightened, then turned her to face him. A flush marked the pale skin of her cheeks, and her dark eyes glittered. Her pants were caught around her legs and she kicked them off, taking her boots with them to leave her naked. Every muscle in his body clenched tight.
His gaze ran down her body, the thrust of her breasts, slender waist, the white-blond curls, the lean flat belly. She was toned, almost muscular. He loved it. He was used to soft women and there was nothing soft about Jess. He reached for her, but she held up a hand to stop him.
Shit, she wasn’t going to back out now was she? He’d let her go but it would kill him.
“Condom,” she muttered.
He couldn’t believe he’d almost forgotten. Well, at least he could be sure she wasn’t trying to trap him into anything. He left her for a moment, went to his chair where he’d discarded his jacket, and pulled a foil packet from the inner pocket.
She watched him as he pushed his pants down over his hips, drawing in a breath as he pulled his dick free. Her eyes never left him as he rolled the condom down over his length.
His hands gripped her hips and he lifted her. “Put your legs around my waist.”
She complied, and he felt the wet heat of her sex against his cock. He gripped her ass with both hands and backed her up a little, so her shoulders rested against the wall, and then he shifted her slightly. His cock slid against her wetness, and she rubbed against him trying to get closer.
He held her still with his hands at her hips. “Say you want me.”
Her eyes flashed open, and she glared at him.
“Say you want me and you can have me. Just three little words.”
He didn’t know why he was pushing it, but he needed to hear her say the words despite the fact that it was obvious she wanted him. He’d always made her say it—it had been a ritual between them. Maybe his proof that he was the one in control.
When she remained silent, her teeth clamped on her lower lip, he shifted her slightly, rubbing his cock against her clit. And her mouth parted on a moan.
“I want you…prick.”
It was enough. His hands tightened on her buttocks, he lifted her, his cock homed in on where it needed to be, and he shoved into her in one hard lunge. It had been ten years, but his body remembered the feel of her wrapped so tight around him.
He knew how she liked it: hard and fast, and he held her in place against the wall as he pulled almost all the way out and then slammed into her. He needed her to come and fast because he wasn’t going to last long and on the next strok
e, he ground against her clit. He pulled her harder against him, repeated the move over and over until he could feel the tension inside her.
Lowering his head, he sucked a nipple into his mouth as he slid out of her, biting down on the inward stroke, suckling as he used his grip on her ass to rotate against her clit and she came apart in his arms. Her head fell back, and she screamed.
He loosened his control and pumped into her as she spasmed around him, loving the contractions pulling at his cock. The pressure was building in his balls, his spine. He opened his eyes and stared into her beautiful face as pleasure swelled inside him, bursting, flooding him and he burrowed his face in the side of her neck. Finally, when the tremors stopped, he raised his head and stared down at her. Her eyes were closed.
“I still hate you,” she said.
Chapter Five
Holy shit. Crap. Bugger.
Her legs were around his waist, his hands hot on her arse, which was just as well because she was pretty sure he was all that was holding her up. And if he let her go, she would melt into a puddle at his feet.
And that was so not going to happen.
She’d spoken the truth. She hated him. Hated that he seemed to be the only man capable of making her feel this way.
Weak.
She gritted her teeth and opened her eyes. The light was bright, probably because outside it was broad daylight and she was in an office with floor-to-ceiling windows and no blinds. She gazed out at the sky as an alternative to looking closer to home.
Yes, she hated him, and already her body craved him again. After he’d left her the last time, she’d gone through withdrawal symptoms similar to a drug addict. Had lost herself for a while. She would not go through that again.
As Declan’s hands tightened on her ass, a ripple of residual pleasure ran through her and she winced. He was still lodged firmly inside her, filling her, stretching her. The old Declan had had amazing stamina. She had no intention of sticking around to find out whether or not that had changed.
“Put me down.”
His fingers dug into the flesh of her buttocks and for a moment, she thought she was going to have to resort to physical assault. She was pretty sure she could take Declan if she had the element of surprise. He was bigger, stronger, but she was betting she was faster and she had a black belt in Tae Kwon Do. And his pants around his ankles were hardly likely to help his case. She was filled with a need to strike out, to release some of her pent-up feelings.
She tensed her muscles, a quick punch to the chest, twist free…
Before she could act on the impulse, he lifted her up slightly, pulling out. A sense of loss washed over her. Ignoring it, she loosened her legs from around his waist and put her feet on the ground. She’d avoided looking at his face; now she risked a glance. A sleepy, sated expression filled his eyes, but otherwise, his face was blank. She couldn’t blame him. So was hers. She hoped. Steadying her legs, she let go of his shoulders. She could stand alone. Declan took a step back, reached down, and pulled up his pants, fastening the zipper but not bothering with anything else. He shoved his hands in his pockets and scrutinized her. His gaze dropped to her body, her totally bare-assed naked body, and his nostrils flared.
“You’re beautiful.”
The murmured words twisted things low down in her body. She ignored the sensation, because getting all happy because Declan thought her beautiful was a big mistake. Not quite as huge as fucking him against his office wall, but big. “Glad you think so.”
“You shouldn’t have come back if you didn’t want this to happen.”
She scowled. “Who said I didn’t want it to happen? There’s nothing like a nice screw against the wall to cement client relations.”
A small smile curled his sensual lips. “Don’t lie. It’s been a long time for you.”
And how the fuck did he know that?
“You were desperate,” he murmured as though she’d asked the question out loud. “And so tight it was almost like the first time.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Liar.”
“Yeah, well, you were pretty damn desperate yourself.”
He shrugged. “I was curious. You were the best fuck I’d ever had even at seventeen. What you lacked in experience, you made up for in enthusiasm.”
She glared daggers at him, imagined him lying at her feet. It could be arranged. “Well, glad I indulged your curiosity.”
“Glad to see you’re still as enthusiastic.”
Shit, she hated him. Had she mention that little fact? Was it worth saying again?
But she didn’t like the way he was looking at her. His gaze focused on her breasts now, then lower and she had to fight the urge to cover herself. She’d never been body conscious, but this was self-protection.
She’d promised herself she could have him once. Now it was time to get out of there. Purge Declan and the old negative emotions from her brain, take control of her life, and move on.
She bent down, scooped up her clothes from the floor, slipped out from in front of him, and strolled across the office.
“I can’t believe you had ‘Declan is a prick’ tattooed on your ass.”
At the words, she glanced back over her shoulder. “If the name fits.” It had been on a drunken night out with some of her army buddies. They’d all gone for tattoos, but Jess hadn’t wanted a new one. In fact, she didn’t want the old one, so she’d just changed it a little.
Ignoring the looming man, she pulled on her underwear, her pants, and shirt—most of the buttons were gone, but she tucked it in as well as she could—then sat down to put on her boots. Finally, she picked up her holster and slipped it over her shoulder, fastened the buckles, and felt ready to face him. He hadn’t moved. Still stood there with his hands in his pockets, watching her. She returned the inspection. He must work out—he was ripped—no way would he get a body like that from sitting at a desk all day. Weights she reckoned. He’d certainly picked her up with ease.
But it would take more than a nice body to impress her. A nice body and a stunning face and a huge…
She shook her head and picked up her jacket. Definitely time to get out of there. Pulling her jacket on to cover the gun, she turned back to him. “So, as you don’t need a bodyguard…” Her gaze drifted to the bandage on his arm, proof that he obviously did need a bodyguard. A little twinge of something stabbed her in the gut. Fear? Guilt? But if he didn’t want babysitting, there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t force him. “I’ll cancel your account and”—she gave a casual shrug—“that’s it. Lovely seeing you again after all these years. Try not to get shot and maybe we’ll do it again in another ten.” Or maybe not.
He didn’t speak as she strolled across the room. The skin down her spine prickled as she waited for him to say something, anything. She didn’t know what she wanted him to say, but the silence was deafening.
Until she reached the door. As she opened it to leave, he spoke.
“You can tell your boss that I think you were very…nice.”
Ha, so he thought she was nice. Slimy bastard. What right did he have to think she was nice after dumping her unceremoniously all those years ago? Even after a night of trying to put them from her mind, the words still niggled as she entered the office the following morning.
She sort of forgot them as she walked through the big open-plan room that housed the operatives who weren’t out on assignment or who were about to head out. Everyone’s eyes followed her movements. Her gaze snagged on Dave, seated at a desk, arms folded, a smug grin on his face. Her eyes narrowed. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be spending the next six months on the most boring surveillance jobs she could come up with.
Her, vindictive? Hell, yes.
She stalked across the room, stabbed her finger on the elevator button, and tapped her feet on the tiled floor. As the elevator doors opened, someone spoke from behind. “Are you going to show us this tattoo, Jess?”
She turned slowly, headed
back the way she had come, halted in front of Steve, who had a cocky grin on his face. “Do you really want to piss off your soon-to-be-boss?” she asked sweetly.
The grin faded, but his eyes still gleamed with amusement. “No, boss.”
“Well, don’t mention tattoos again.”
“Yes, boss.”
She resigned herself to more hazing as she made her way up to Jake’s office; she’d known Dave wouldn’t keep quiet about the comment. There was no one in the outer office and she banged on the door and waited for the muffled come-in. It wasn’t safe to enter Jake’s office these days without knocking first.
But when she opened the door, Jake wasn’t there. Instead Kim, his wife, sat behind his desk, long legs stretched out, her feet resting on the dark mahogany.
She looked positively radiant; marriage to Jake obviously agreed with her. Jess had known Kim for nearly five years now, since Jake had rescued her from her bastard of a husband and given her a job at Knight Securities. She’d always found it hard to relate to women, but Kim and her other best friend Dani were special. Though at this moment she didn’t appear particularly friendly; her mouth was a tight line and she studied Jess through narrowed eyes.
“You have a tattoo, and you didn’t tell me?”
She shrugged. “It never came up in conversation.”
“How come I’ve never seen it?”
“Probably because we’ve never gotten naked together.”
“True.” She pursed her lips. “Has Dani seen it?”
“Yes?”
“So you’ve gotten naked with Dani but not with me?”
“Obviously.” Actually, Dani had been one of the army buddies who’d all gotten tattoos together the night she’d had hers…updated. “Where’s Jake?”
“Delayed. He said to start without him.” This was their weekly meeting to go through all the open cases and make sure the staff was allocated where best suited. “And don’t try and change the subject. You know you’re not getting out of here until I’ve seen it.”
