She’d never tried the screaming approach in court, but she might have to soon. It worked really well. Simon appeared less than five seconds later wearing his old faithfuls of sweatpants and a ratty T-shirt. Somehow he still managed to look too damned appealing for his own good, even with the exasperated expression.
His look went from annoyed to worried the moment he saw her costume. “I’m sorry.”
“You bet you are, you prick. How dare you walk out on me like a complete ass and not even call to apologize.”
He blinked, shook his head, and blinked again. “What?”
Fiona almost laughed; having him confused felt so good. Only, it wasn’t time for laughter just yet. “Don’t ‘what’ me. I gave you my trust. My first goddamn man-induced orgasm. And what did you do but make me feel like some cheap slut who didn’t even deserve a good-bye.”
“Your first orgasm? More like your millionth and first.”
The unexpected words had her momentarily forgetting about revenge. “What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
The childish urge to say “I asked you first” crept up, but she managed to refrain from speaking it. Keeping the ball in her court was the only way to see this played out right. “I want an apology, and you’re going to give it to me, and then we’re going to have makeup sex.”
“You’re nuts.”
“For a guy who makes kids’ comics, you really suck at being nice.”
“Fine. I’m sorry, but I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Yes, you are.” She cracked the whip at him; a stab of longing piercing her pussy with the angry way it licked the air. “Get naked now!”
“Look, it’s obvious you’re on a power trip, probably won some case to let some homicidal maniac back on the streets to kill again, but I’m not into the hard core.”
She cracked the whip again. The end came inches from hitting Simon’s thigh, and he jumped back with a squeak. She gave in to her laugher. What a humbling experience for the prick. “I said get naked. Unless you want to feel this whip on your ass.”
For a fleeting instant, Fiona thought he was actually considering the idea. Then he mumbled something about checking her into the mental hospital and started stripping. The moment the last of his clothing was gone, she was on him, knocking him to the ground with her unexpected tackle. She kissed him openmouthed, sliding her tongue against his and suckling until he responded in kind, all the while hating herself for enjoying it so much. She moved her hands over his body, scraping her nails—make that talons—over every inch of his flesh with enough pressure to tease him into a full arousal but not offer anything in the way of release.
Simon started to thrash beneath her. She sat back to straddle him, eyeing him through a predator’s glare. “Lie still and keep your mouth shut, or I swear I’ll live up to your expectations for real this time and whip you.”
His eyes flashed with fear, but the way his dick bobbed beneath her told her it was the kind of fear that was only a step away from passion. Fiona’s lust rose with the idea she was turning him on so completely. She didn’t want to enjoy fucking him one last time, but she’d known before coming over she could never take him inside her body without feeling ecstasy. For the sake of revenge, she would suffer through one last man-induced orgasm.
Wanting out of this apartment and Simon’s life as soon as possible, she raised his hands above his head and looped her whip around his wrists, securing it with a knot.
He kept his wrists still but tried to argue his way out of it. “You don’t want to do this. Think about what will happen to your career when this gets out.”
“Like you give a care.” She raised her hand, palm side toward his face. “Now shut up. The whip might be in use, but I still have plenty of other weapons.”
Shooting to her feet, she stripped off the leather thigh-high boots and the tiny little leather thong that had absolutely no ass coverage. Pulling the condom from between her breasts—the ridiculous Sorrina costume had no room for breathing space let alone pockets—she tore the package open with her teeth and quickly sheathed his erection.
He groaned as she sank onto him in one quick move. “Do you really think this is going to make you feel better?”
Fiona snapped her eyes shut against the flood of pleasure. She’d never been this wet before. How twisted. “Yes. And I told you to shut up.”
“You won’t hurt me, Fiona. You don’t have it in you to be evil.”
Grabbing hold of his chest, she tossed her head back with ironic laughter and rode him hard. Emotion consumed her with each downward pump, with each sigh that left her lips against her will, with each moan out of Simon’s mouth. Refusing to let those emotions out, she picked up the pace, fucking him with a vengeance that went way beyond his using her as a model for some make-believe serial killer.
If he hadn’t treated her so coldly, she wouldn’t even have cared about the comic. She’d actually found the two-dimensional likeness of her rather flattering. But he had treated her coldly, hadn’t even told her good-bye before he called her small-minded and walked out on her.
The emotions she’d done her best to contain bubbled up, tears slipping out of her eyes before she could stop them. Orgasm followed on the heels of those tears, pushing through her body to an extreme she’d never before known. The stupid part of her brain that had allowed her to care for Simon had the audacity to open her mouth and shout his name in a voice too laden with lust for him to even consider she meant it to be another warning for him to keep silent.
As if he’d been waiting for that very thing, Simon chose that moment to come. Fiona waited for the hot rush of fluid to leave his body and her own heart to stop beating so hard it felt like it might burst. Then she pulled off of him, swiped the tears from her cheeks, and rushed out the door.
6
Jonah had never known the feeling of someone hating him so much they would rather bare their entire lower half to the world than spend another second with him. Fiona probably hadn’t even realized she was half-naked when she’d bolted out his door two weeks ago. But he had, and if he hadn’t been whip-tied and naked himself, he would have chased after her and told her so. He hadn’t liked the thought of countless men viewing what should be for his eyes alone. And that was foolish thinking for a number of reasons.
Not only had he covered the pages of Hell Bent with her nude body for months now, but he also didn’t have any right to be jealous. He’d had her to himself, had had her heart in his hands, if the tears she’d shed before running away were a sign, and he had thrown it all away. And not because he thought of her as a money-hungry, coldhearted lawyer either. But because he’d been scared to death of caring about someone again.
It had taken his remark to Fiona, that she wouldn’t hurt him because she didn’t have it in her to be evil and her ensuing disbelieving laughter to make him see the light. From her charmingly mismatched toenails to the way she screamed to let off steam, she was not a serial killer of any kind. She was simply a woman passionate about her job, who at the end of the day had her fair share of complaints about the people she worked with and for, just like everybody else. She was also the woman he liked, probably even loved.
It had been so long since Jonah had experienced the emotion, he was no longer sure where the lines were drawn. He just knew he was sick and tired of watching Fiona sit in her bedroom alone at night and not even find a worthy companion in her big black bad boy of a vibrator.
He wanted his Fiona back, and he would get her, in the only way he knew how.
Liz and Kristi said she had to take him back, that he’d jeopardized his best-selling author status in order to seek her forgiveness. Fiona wasn’t so sure.
When she’d been in Wild Honey buying the latest issue of Hell Bent, there were two other people purchasing the comic book. They’d heard about a shocking twist that had all the fans going wild and had rushed right out to buy their own copy and find out what the big twist was. Liz
had already told her, but Fiona had had to see for herself. And she had, and she still didn’t think Simon had jeopardized his best-selling status but maybe hiked it up a few notches.
Who would think to soften a serial killer by having her fall in love with one of her intended targets and not want to fuck him to death? It was such twisted logic, the kind of logic it seemed Simon regularly partook of. And maybe that was why she’d fallen for him so fast.
She spent the better part of her week surrounded by straitlaced lawyers and judges. Yeah, she ran into her fair share of nutcases in the form of clients, but it wasn’t the same. She didn’t like most of those nutcases. She didn’t love any of them. She probably still loved Simon if her reluctance to even turn King Simon on once in the last three weeks was a sign. And she could maybe forgive him since he’d dedicated the latest issue of Hell Bent to her, complete with an apology for being such a prick—apparently it was okay to use those kinds of words in comic books that weren’t intended for kids. Apparently an author could even get away with telling a woman he loved her in an adult comic book.
Fiona sniffed as she read the words for the hundredth time. Her sterling composure was totally shot to hell because of Simon, and she should hate him for that. But she didn’t, and she wasn’t going to sit here, hugging the dedication page of a comic book a second longer. She was going to find her man and have some really great makeup sex—this time dressed as herself. The run back from Simon’s place might have been fast, but even two steps would have seemed to take forever when she’d been bare-assed and still dripping with arousal.
Jonah wasn’t in the mood for company. Hadn’t been for weeks. Three, to be exact.
The only reason he went to the door was because whoever the idiot was pounding away like he didn’t own a doorbell wouldn’t stop. He yanked the door open, primed to shout the unwanted visitor’s head off with a snarled “What?” The moment he saw the owner of the offending pound, he changed his mind.
Heart in his throat, he forced out words. “Fiona? What are you doing here?” He noticed her raincoat and his groin tightened. The last time she’d had that thing on she’d been naked beneath. It had been the best and worst day of his life. Could she be naked again?
Her expression was neutral. “I can leave if you want.”
“God, no. I don’t want that. I want you.”
“Then you’re in luck.” She opened the raincoat, and his mouth watered at the sight of his favorite fantasy come to life. He inhaled her lavender perfume tinged with the scent of arousal. Then she spoke those beautiful words. “Fuck me.”
“Excuse me?” He had to be hearing things.
A siren’s smile curved her vivid red lips. “Fuck me. Please.”
Jonah shook his head. This was too good to be true. Still, he fell into the conversation, repeating the words he’d spoken a month ago, back when he’d been living in fear of falling in love again. “You obviously have me confused with someone else.”
“No confusion. I want you, Simon.”
Even if he hadn’t been able to smell her stimulation, Fiona’s eyes gleamed with the truth of her desire. And dare he hope her love? “How do you know my name?”
“I saw it on the cover of this really awesome comic book. The best part is the heroine. Oh, I get that most people think she’s the bad girl, but anyone that sexy and tough has to be a heroine.”
He gave in to laughter for a few seconds, then sobered to ask, “Did you really come here just to sleep with me?”
“Maybe.” She looked past him, into his home. “Can I come in? Not that everyone within a ten-block radius hasn’t seen me naked, but I’d rather not be standing here if your parents decide to drop by.”
“Actually, they’d be elated to see you.”
She raised a black eyebrow. “Naked?”
“Naked, clothed. It wouldn’t matter, so long as you’re here for the right reason.”
“And that would be?”
Jonah pulled in a breath. Groveling time had arrived, and he would be damned if he didn’t get it right. “To accept my apology, realize I’m a terrible person who doesn’t deserve anyone as wonderful as you and then let me atone for my imperfections by giving you lots of really great makeup sex.”
A smile twitched at her lips, finally blossoming into a grin that warmed him through. “I think I’ll come in.” She moved past him. “But you aren’t getting sex.”
He closed the door. “Good. I don’t want it.”
She whirled back on him, stunned. “You don’t?”
Though he already knew his body would pay for it, he gave in to his urge to send his gaze the length of her. His cock responded as expected, giving a painful throb of need. “Well, yeah, of course I do, but not until I have a chance to explain myself.”
Fiona sat down on the couch. “I’m listening.”
He considered sitting next to her but knew he would never be able to get all the words out if he was that close to the temptation of her naked body. He’d returned a short while ago from a trip to the grocery store and hadn’t yet taken the time to change into his writing gear of sweatpants and a T-shirt. Taking advantage of his jeans, he jammed his hands in the back pockets. “I hate lawyers.”
“That bodes well for our relationship.”
He laughed. “I should have said I hated lawyers. Or I thought I did anyway. My fiancée was killed by a drunk driver four—”
“Oh God, Simon! That’s horrible.”
“It wasn’t easy to take, and it took me a long time to move past it.” He added grimly, “The defense attorney was able to get the driver off with little more than a hand slap and a couple months of house arrest.”
Fiona nodded. “The attorney probably didn’t have a choice but to do everything in their power to see the driver free. Most of the cases I take on are ones I hand select, but I have to handle a certain number of clients that I don’t want to represent, too. It’s part of being involved in a law firm with lifetime clients.” Revulsion took over her features. “The first time I won a murder trial, I went home and threw up. Then I didn’t sleep for days. I just kept seeing the faces of the victim’s family. They hated me.”
Jonah felt like punching himself. He’d called her small-minded, but he was the one who’d been such. Until she’d made him see the light, he’d never even considered that a lawyer might not be happy about winning a case. “Then you can understand why I felt the way I did.”
“Yes. Completely.” Her face brightened a little. “That you were able to move past your hatred for lawyers is amazing.”
“No, it’s this wonderful woman named Fiona, who, by the way, my mother is demanding to meet immediately or she’ll disown me.”
An overjoyed smile curved her lips. “I’d love to meet her, Simon. I’d love to meet both your parents.”
“Anything else you love?” Or anyone?
She nodded. “The way my ass looks smaller in print than it does in real life.”
Laughing, he grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. Unable to go any longer without touching her, he pulled her into his arms. “I might have gotten the proportions wrong.”
“Don’t you even think about changing my ass! If you feel the need to change anything, then give me a boob job. I’ve always wanted a D cup.” Fiona rubbed her breasts against him to emphasize the point.
Jonah felt the press of the soft mounds all the way to his groin. He brushed a kiss over her mouth. “You’re perfect the way you are.”
“Men in love are so blind.”
“What about women in love?”
“We need lots of great sex.”
He was only too happy to oblige, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her into the bedroom. He laid her back on his bed and stripped the raincoat away. When he would have moved his hands down to ready her for penetration, Fiona stopped him. “You don’t need to bother with foreplay. Just thinking about finally having you back in my body has me wet enough to turn this mattress into a waterbed.”
When he regained his bearings, he held her to him, rolling them so that he was still embedded within her, but she was on top. Fiona looked at him, her chin digging into his chest, her smile positively feline. It warmed him in places he’d forgotten he’d possessed.
Stroking her back, he kissed her temple. “What are you thinking about?”
“How relieved I am to have finally found my Simon.”
“Your Simon? I’ve become a possession?”
“Yep. But that wasn’t what I meant exactly.”
“What exactly did you mean?”
She rose up on her elbows, her smile fading just a little. “I have a confession. I didn’t randomly pick you to flash and then beg for a fuck. I’ve been stalking you for almost three years.”
“You have?” By God, he’d never seen that one coming.
“Yes. I was desperate to find a Simon.”
Jonah frowned, not quite understanding. “Just any Simon?”
“You, Simon. I was desperate to find you. King Simon only helped me to see that.”
“You’re close with a king named Simon?” Now this was getting really weird.
The naughtiness returned to her smile. “Very close. He’s my vibrator.”
He laughed. “King Simon wouldn’t happen to be black and about twelve inches long and three around, by any chance.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have a confession of my own.” One he hoped she wouldn’t get too pissed about. “That window right there”—he nodded toward the pane, where a telescope was positioned—“gives an excellent view of the apartments across the quad. And if you angle that telescope in just the right direction, it gives a mouth-watering view of what’s happening in a certain sexy lawyer’s bedroom.”
Operation G-Spot Page 25