by Mina Carter
He teased her through the aftershocks, drawing them out until she hung limp and exhausted against the wall. Then he pulled free gently and set her feet down on the floor. He didn’t let go of her, a strong arm around her waist, supporting her against his hard body as he untied her wrists.
“You be okay getting dressed?” he asked softly, his manner protective.
She held back from telling him they weren’t finished. He’d done his job and gotten her to scream. Damn loud if Sari’s giggles out in the main sales floor were any indication.
She nodded, dry mouthed, and watched him turn to leave, her body still leaning on the wall for support. It was very probable she’d stay leaning against that wall for a long while. Then she peered down to the torn panties and smiled. She needed to tempt him more often.
“One more thing.”
He glanced over his shoulder to meet her gaze. Her body heated all over again. “Next time you decide to tear off my panties, can you make sure they’re not my favorite pair?”
He smiled and winked. “I’ll think about it.”
***
He shouldn’t have touched her. Drew knew that. He knew better than to get involved, but damn if she didn’t sound good screaming his name. His punishment, though, was tonight. Less than twenty-four hours after she’d come apart, screaming in his arms, she was all over another guy.
Glowering, he sulked in the shadows at the edge of the ballroom and watched her dance. If dancing was what they were calling it these days. It should have been a simple waltz, but it looked more like upright fucking sex to him. And if that little twat she was dancing with dropped his hand any further on her ass, Drew was going to take the fucking thing off for him. At the neck.
“Hey, big guy.” Tom’s familiar voice pulled him out his daydream of blood and retribution. “You want to tone down the facial expressions there? You’re freaking out the civilians.”
“Yeah, well. Look at them.” Drew gestured to the floor in disgust and took the whiskey tumbler Tom held out for him. He downed the contents in one go and hissed as it burned all the way down to his stomach.
Tom glanced at the dance floor. “Yeah, I believe that’s called dancing. You might have missed that one. It was between Taking Down Worldwide Terrorist Networks 101 and Building Bombs From the Contents of Your Kitchen in Ten Easy Steps.”
“Yeah, I can dance. I’m not a complete fucking knucklehead, you know? In my day though, dancing involved more space between people.”
Tom chuckled. “You sound like an old man. Not someone in his thirties.”
They handed their empty glasses to a passing waiter. “Besides, I have a feeling if it were you out there dancing with her, things would not be so tame. And if it’s bothering you so much to watch her dance with someone else, why don’t you dance with her?”
Drew slid him a sideways look. “I’m the bodyguard, remember? I can’t dance with her and keep an eye out.” Besides, he didn’t want to dance with her. What he wanted involved far less clothing.
Tom shrugged. ”You can watch her better from closer proximity.” He sighed. “But what do I know? Not like that guy she’s dancing with is one of her exes—one she dumped even though he wanted to continue seeing her.”
“Really?” That did it. “Watch the perimeter.”
Ignoring Tom’s little chuckle, he strode across the dance floor. Easily, he wove between the dancers until he reached his target. Tapping the guy on the shoulder, he attempted a smile even though he wanted to rip the jerk’s head off. “Cutting in, mate.“
“Drew, what are you doing?” Amy asked the moment her partner had stepped away, her eyes wide with surprise. “We were discussing some important business mergers coming up.”
He pulled her into a dance hold, her curves pressed up close and personal. “Mergers? Is that what we’re calling it now?” His lips twisted in a wry grin. “Where I come from we just call it fucking.”
Her eyes widened even more. “You can’t be serious. Joe and I stopped dating almost a year ago, but he’s still a friend.” Her brows slowly dipped downward. Her eyes flashed fire, her lips pursed, and a shade of red covered her cheeks. She was pissed.
“Wait a minute. Did you seriously just come over here to insult me?” She tried to tug out of his hold. “Every time I find something redeeming about you the jerk side messes it up.”
He didn’t let go, spinning her into a corner and out again with ease. He’d never thought he’d need his ballroom lessons, but go figure. “Jerk side? The guy was groping you right here on the damn floor. He’s lucky I didn’t knock his fucking teeth down his throat.”
“He was not groping me!” she hissed. “It’s called dancing. I’d know if I were getting groped.” She tried unsuccessfully to push him back. “What the hell is your problem anyway?” She pressed her lips into a thin line. “It’s not like you want me.”
She inhaled sharply and cocked her head to the side. “Oh. Are you...? You couldn’t be jealous. Not when you’ve shown no indication of wanting to do more. You’ve acted like I don’t exist since the lingerie shop.”
He just pulled her closer. The waltz, although elegant, was an intimate dance when done properly. And Drew danced properly, his thighs brushing against hers as he led her around the floor, deliberately herding her toward the back of the room and the darkened terrace.
“Professional distance,” he threw back, his teeth gritted. “Which I can handle so long as you don’t go rubbing yourself against some other guy right in fucking front of me.”
She growled, so caught up in what he was saying she didn’t catch that he’d moved them farther from the crowd. “I wasn’t rubbing myself on anyone! Are deliberately trying to piss me off?” She tried again to shake out of his hold. “You have some nerve. You ignore me, and the moment someone is being nice and complimentary over my dress or my hair, you’re going all He-Man.” She rolled her eyes. “Guess what? He wasn’t the only one to hit on me tonight. So what do you say to that?”
He spun her again, and again, deliberately keeping her off balance until they were through the door. Then he shoved a leg between her thighs and dipped her backward. “I think you’re trying to get people killed. Because the only guy getting inside you anytime soon, is me.”
Chapter Four
Amy curled her fingers into fists, biting back every word she wanted to hurl at the macho jerk. What the hell was his problem? She glanced at the darkened streets through the limo’s windows. Figured that he’d be one of those hot bastards that would frustrate her to death.
By the time they reached the elevator to her penthouse, she was ready to take one of her Prada heels off and hit him with it.
She was sexually frustrated, tired, and hungry. Only she would spend the entire event too busy staring at how good Drew looked in his tux to worry about something as trivial as eating. Hunger made her cranky. Lack of sex made her Linda Blair bitchy.
“Are you planning on acting like a child all night?”
He turned, eyebrow raised. “You’re calling me a child? Were you born without common sense, or are you making a special effort just for me? Because pissing off a man with a gun is never a good idea.”
That’s it. The moment the elevator doors closed in front of them, she turned to him and slapped her hands on her hips.
“Just what the hell is wrong here? What did I miss? You act like a bastard and have the audacity to get angry at me?” She couldn’t control the rise in her voice or the poking she did to his chest over his open jacket.
He let her, just looking, no…glaring down at her as though her poking didn’t bother him in the slightest. “I kidnapped you the first time we met. I told you then that I’m a bastard. Or did you forget that part?” A look of irritation crossed his face, and he grabbed at her hand. “Would you fucking quit that with the talons? If you’re going to use them on me, I’d prefer them across my back as I screw the living daylights out of you.”
“You’ve got some nerve. Do you get off o
n making me wet and never giving in? I’ve practically thrown myself at you, and you want to talk about sex now? Fuck you.” She spat the words out as she left the elevator.
“Maybe what you need is to figure out what you want before you make any suggestions as to what I can do with my nails.” She marched to her door and searched through her clutch for her keys, mumbling, “stupid idiot men.”
He plucked the clutch out of her hand, found the keys, and opened the door in as slick a move as she’d ever seen. His gaze swept the room before he threw—actually threw—her clutch on the sofa. It hit the edge and spilled the contents over the floor, but he wasn’t watching it. Instead he turned on her. She swallowed nervously. All of a sudden, he looked very dangerous indeed.
“You want to play games? Fine. Then we’ll play.” His face was hard as he stripped his jacket off and slung it on the sofa as well. The move revealed the holster pulling across his broad shoulders. Movements full of anger, he ripped it off, then tore his shirt open.
“Undress,” he ordered in a hard voice. “Because I don’t care how expensive that dress is, if you’re wearing it when I’m done, I’ll rip it off you.”
She swallowed hard at the heat in his eyes and the way he’d spoken. The man meant business. A thrill of anticipation rushed through her. She reached around to unzip the clingy black dress, not once taking her eyes off him. The only sounds filling the large living room were her breathing and the zipper on its descent. The dress dropped in a soft swoosh and pooled at her feet, leaving her in only a strapless, lacy bra and thong. She didn’t have to ask if he liked them. The way his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched said it all. “Now what?”
His shirt hit the floor with the holster wrapped in it. Hands rested on his belt buckle, he looked at her. “Come here.”
She took a tentative step toward him. Where the heck had the nerves come from? It had to be the way he stared deep into her eyes, like he was going to devour her. Perspiration gathered in her palms. She stopped a foot away from him and tried to rein in the need bubbling in her veins. With a hard swallow, she opened her mouth to speak, but had a hard time saying anything. “I’m...”
His hand shot out, hooking around the back of her neck to haul her up against him. She hit the solid planes of his broad chest, and her knees almost gave out. His expression hadn’t changed. It was still hard, like granite. Almost as hard as the thick bar of his cock where it pressed into her stomach.
“On your knees,” he ordered, and just for a moment the mask slipped, allowing her to see what lay beneath: white-hot need and such longing it reached down into her very soul.
There wasn’t any question of not doing what he asked. She slowly lowered to her knees in front of him, waiting for his next instructions. No matter what they were, she knew she’d do as he asked. There was just something about him that reached further than any man ever had. She glanced up at him, ready to do as she was told.
“Belt,” he rasped, spreading his feet for balance. It was the stance she thought of as his soldier one. A sudden image of what he’d look like in uniform hit her, and she almost moaned aloud. She reached for his buckle, noticing the way his free hand clenched and unclenched at his side. A sudden sense of her own power hit her. She had this strong man at her whim.
Her fingers shook as she pulled and set the belt buckle free. Then she moved on to the fly of his dress pants, unclipping and unzipping. She swallowed at the dryness in her throat. Oh hell. There weren’t any briefs peeking through the parted pants. All she saw was deliciously toned skin. She had to fight her hormones to stop herself from reaching into his pants to touch him.
His next words solved that dilemma for her. “Touch me.”
His fingers tightened in her hair, all the muscles in his corded arm standing out in high relief as she tentatively reached to do his bidding. His pants weren’t tight, but they tented impressively anyway, and her mouth watered as she parted the black fabric. Holy crap, he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
With a soft tug, she got the pants out of the way and caught more than an eyeful of his impressive, erect cock. She didn’t want to stare like a woman who’d never seen a big penis before, but he was… He was gifted. Lifting a hand slowly, she reached out to caress the velvety smooth skin of his shaft, down to the base. She couldn’t stop herself from cupping his balls.
“Fuck!” The word was almost a shout, and his entire body froze, muscles locked. His cock jerked, the thick, flushed head temptingly close to her lips.
“Suck it.” This order was just as harsh as the first, but she didn’t care. The tightness of his hand in her hair and the way he watched her, like a hawk, betrayed his need.
She curled a hand around his hard length and deliberately took her time bringing her lips forward. She’d thought to torture him a little for making her want him so badly, but the moment her tongue ran a circle over the head of his cock, she was lost.
He was hot, hard, and silky smooth. A moan of pure pleasure sounded in the back of her throat as she took a lick from root to tip, then another, until she encased him with her lips, curling her tongue over him and taking him farther into her mouth.
He swore, the curses dropping from his lips uttered in that sinfully sexy British accent he had. She hummed in the back of her throat, her free hand spread over his hip as she slid back, leaving the rigid length slick and wet.
“Fu….uck me,” he growled, hips twitching as though he wanted to shove forward but had controlled the movement. Letting her play. For now. He was a beast in a flimsy cage though. At any moment he could break free, and then playtime would be over.
“Do that again, slowly.” His words were almost pants. Low. Controlled. Tight. “Fuck, your lips look so pretty wrapped around my cock.”
She did it again—hollowed her cheeks in tighter and pushed forward, sucking him harder, deeper. Still playing with his balls, she propelled back, twirled her tongue in circles over his slick dick, and moaned. Fuck, he felt good, all hard and slick. She wanted him in her, driving her crazy with his body. She dug her nails into his hip, his cock once again sliding down her throat.
“Oh my god,” he moaned, dropping his head back as she worked his cock. The small movements of his hips tensed his ass. The hard muscles rippled when she ran her hands over them and tensed when she couldn’t resist digging her nails in.
Talons. He’d called them talons. A devil riding her shoulder, she raked them up over the hard globes of his ass. He gasped, shoving his cock deeper down her throat. Not so much as to hurt, but just enough that she knew he was about to lose control.
“Fuck. Up.” He pulled away, hauling her to her feet in a casual display of strength that took her breath away. Then his lips crashed down over hers, his cock pressing insistently against her belly and her brain cleared of anything but him.
She ran her nails up his spine before biting them deep into his back muscles. Liquid heat flowed through her veins. The kiss, if it could be called that, was more of a branding. His lips and tongue took possession of her mouth and claimed her. Owned her.
There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt who was in charge now. By god, she loved it. But she wasn’t an inexperienced woman. She set out to seduce, rubbing her tongue sensuously over his, going as far as sucking and biting his lip.
Tension rippled in his body and traveled through his hold to hers. His expert mouth and tongue worked in such a way that they melted all her brain cells. Her pussy throbbed, slick with need. An intense ache grew inside her, a desperate urge to be filled by him. Only him.
Her nipples pebbled tight. She wiggled in his hold, brushing her herself over his hardness. It didn’t help. It made her hungry for more.
He broke away to mutter something against her lips. She didn’t catch the words, too preoccupied with how his hands were sliding down her curves to cup her ass. She nipped his lip. He parted her ass cheeks, strong fingers digging in just enough to feed her arousal.
“Mine.” The words were a mere rumble again
st her lips. He lifted her. Gasping, she clutched at his broad shoulders, but she needn’t have bothered. He handled her as though she weighed nothing, parting her legs and wrapping them around his lean waist. Her arousal wound tighter as his cock was trapped between them, pressing and rubbing against her clit.
“Fuck me, please.” She rolled her hips, attempting to get him inside her. “I’ll do anything you want, just get your cock inside me now!”
“Bossy woman,” he chuckled, walking her backward. She’d never been skinny, and previous boyfriends had made jokes about putting their backs out if they tried to lift her, so the fact Drew didn’t appear to struggle or even notice her weight made her feminine ego soar.
He didn’t head for the bedroom, though. Instead, he turned right into the main living area. She didn’t realize what he was about, until he shoved a chair out of the way and her back hit the cool glass of her dining table.
“The bed is that way.” She motioned with her head. “Much more comfortable no?” The smile on his face freaked her out a little…and excited her a lot. “I’m guessing you have something else in mind.”
He leaned over her, hips wedged between her thighs, and gave a little roll that sent her eyes turning up into the back of her head. “Sweetheart, you have no idea.”
Still reeling from the pleasure of his cock pressing against her, separated from where they both wanted him to be by the merest scrap of satin, she didn’t have the capacity to anticipate his next move. Before she knew it, he moved back and flipped her over, a hand in the back of her neck to keep her pressed against the glass. She squeaked, the cold surface against her heated skin making her shiver.
