by Sotia Lazu
“Well, I was craning my neck for so long, I could have sprained it,” she said.
With a growl, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him.
She surprised him further by linking her arms around his neck and rising on her toes, to kiss him once more. When she moaned into his mouth, he couldn’t resist grabbing her ass to press her against his erection, aware he risked a slap or a knee to the groin. The expected blow never came. Instead, she swiveled her hips from side to side, rubbing against him.
He pulled back from the kiss and made the biggest boo-boo he could have, while trying to convince her he was a bad boy.
He spoke.
It wasn’t dirty talk, but stupid, sentimental Richard, who surfaced in the most passionate moment of his entire life. “You’re so beautiful… Your eyes—I’ve dreamt of your—”
“No.” She dropped her arms to her sides, trapping his where they still encaged her body.
“No?”
“No, you haven’t. You hate me. You’re a vampire, and I’m a shifter, and we don’t do sweet talk.”
So that was how she wanted to play.
He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled, baring her neck to him. He licked a trail up the side of her neck and grazed her earlobe with the tip of his nose, inhaling her scent before giving her hair a second, harsher tug.
“You want rough? I’ll give you rough. Think you can handle it?”
“Told you before, nothing is too hard for me. I can take it all.”
Yes, she’d told him, and it turned him on now just as much as it had then.
She didn’t shy away when he slid his free hand under her skirt, to knead her flesh where her thighs met the curve of her ass. He brushed his fingertips over her soaked thong, and then let go of her completely, pulling his arms free and taking a step back.
*
Lexi whimpered at the loss of his touch.
He smirked, and this time she didn’t want to slap the expression away. She wanted to taste it. Pull his lower lip between her teeth and nibble on it.
When she stepped closer, he held up his palm, fingers splayed. “Turn around.”
“Ric—” She wasn’t prepared for the coarseness in his voice when he cut her off.
“It’s Rex. You said so yourself. Now turn around and bend over.” He indicated her desk with a tilt of his head. “Don’t make me say it again.”
She wanted to yell. She wanted to smack him upside his stupid head and make it clear that he had no business ordering her around, and she would by no means do what he said. At least she wanted to want that. Truth was, all she cared for at that moment was finding out exactly what he had in mind for her.
There was only one way to go about that.
She turned and bent over the flat surface. Unsure of where to put her hands, she ended up placing them on either side of her hips, holding on to the edge of the desk. She shivered with anticipation, praying the build-up wouldn’t lead to an anticlimactic—pun intended—end.
It took a couple of heartbeats, and then Ric or Rex—or whoever the fuck he pretended to be—pressed against her backside. He draped his body over hers and ran his fingers up her sides to her shoulders.
His breath was warm against her skin, his touch soft when he caressed her cheek, his cock rock-solid against her ass.
She needed to feel him naked on top of her. Inside her. Now. The book had taken care of foreplay, and she was ready for him. She writhed under him, but he only feathered touches along her arms. He was so gentle, she didn’t resist when he locked his fingers around her wrists, pulled them both above her head, and closed her fingers over the farthest edge of the desk.
“I know you want me, Xandra”—his words sent a tingle down her spine—“but this isn’t happening unless you know it too. Tell me you want me, or be a liar and deny it.”
She bucked, enraged by his gall, but she couldn’t throw him off. She was pinned underneath his body because she wanted to be. Once more, she went for the snarky option. “You want to get a confession on film too, or are you just recording sound?”
She didn’t expect the hard slap on her ass.
“Ri—Rex! What the—”
“Either tell me you want me or that you don’t.” He straightened, no longer restricting her with his weight, though he knotted her hair in one hand. “Which is it?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” He pulled up her skirt, caressing each inch of skin he uncovered.
Lexi’s breath caught when he rubbed his palm over her ass, where it still stung. He sneaked his thumb under the flimsy strap that separated her buttocks and slowly slid it downward, to graze her wet folds. “Yes, what, Xandra?”
“Yes, I want you. Okay?” She didn’t sound half as nonchalant as she meant to, her words no more than a whisper.
Holding her thong away from her body with his thumb, Ric pushed two fingers inside her. They slipped in easily, doing little to alleviate the hunger consuming Lexi. She never remembered being so wet before. Never so out of control with lust.
He moved his fingers against a spot inside that made her feel she was going to die and at the same time like she was more alive than ever before. She prayed he never stop, that he keep fucking her with his hand until she got the exploding orgasm she’d read Xandra experience time and time again.
He withdrew his hand, and she almost cried.
She wanted to beg him for more, to please let her come the way she needed to. When she tried to raise her head and look at him, he held her in place by her hair.
“Don’t move.”
It was an order, and she obeyed, cursing herself for it. She managed not to move as he tugged sharply on her panties, though the elastic dug into her hips before it snapped. She held still when she heard his zipper slide down. She even stayed in place when she heard something tear. He must have opened the condom wrapper and put the thing on with one hand. She wished she could watch.
The blunt head of his cock brushed against her labia, and she couldn’t help pushing back.
God, she wanted him.
He made no move to enter her, and she let out a whimper of frustration and need.
With a grunt, Ric grasped her hip and drove forward, burying his entire length inside her in one long smooth stroke.
He filled her. Stretched her. God. She gasped for air, tempted to fuck herself on him even as she strained to accommodate his girth. She’d hurt in the morning, but at that moment she cared about nothing but the pressure in her womb. Faced with the promise of pleasure more intense than she’d ever felt, she didn’t give a damn about the office, her job, or the fact that she hated the man about to offer her that pleasure.
When he started moving, she lost herself. Every stroke, every plunge, drew sounds from her she didn’t know she could make. He was long and thick and hard, and she wanted to see him. Wanted to lick the broad chest she knew hovered over her back. Wanted to rip off his T-shirt—the bastard hadn’t even taken his jacket off—to feel his naked skin on hers as he drove her near the edge.
She writhed and whimpered, needing just a little more to push her over. As if he read the tension in her body, he let go of her hip and found her clit. Rubbed it. His thrusts turned faster. Deeper.
Things rattled on her desk. She didn’t care if they fell over.
She was about to burst with something she had no name for. What was higher than satisfaction? More primal than pleasure? More engulfing than bliss?
“Who’s fucking you? Who’s making you come?”
Lexi’s orgasm crushed against her in waves, her body tingling and shuddering with its force. “Rex.”
*
The moment he’d felt how wet for him—for him—she’d been, he’d wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and worship her with his mouth, taste her in her most intimate place, make her come against his face.
His girl wanted it rough, though. She wanted Rex, and that was what he give her, while deep inside he ached to do it all d
ifferently.
Lexi clenched and shuddered around him, and Ric pumped his hips harder, chasing his own release. It took no more than a few quick thrusts for him to follow her over the edge. It had been a while since he’d come with anyone other than himself, longer still since a woman’s moans had urged him on. Feeling spent in more ways than one, he dug his fingers in Lexi’s flesh to keep his footing.
He’d told her Rex would be the name she’d scream, but he hadn’t expected it to hurt.
Next time would be different—and he’d have a next time with her, as God was his witness.
Next time she’d latch on to him, kiss him and touch him, and maybe even…
Yes, next time it might be him she screamed for.
Loath to leave her, but afraid cuddling her would earn him another stab through the heart, he pulled out, took off the condom, and knotted it. He tugged at the scrap of lace that lay in tatters under her and put it in his pocket. Without a word, he smoothed her skirt back down and went to the men’s room to get rid of the evidence, semi erect cock still hanging out of his unzipped pants.
When the door was closed behind him, he slumped over the sink, gripped the cool surface with all he had, and took a long, hard look into the mirror.
He was Ric, and he was Rex, and he just had the best damned sex of his life. He needed to check himself and stop sweating the small stuff; a name was but a name, after all. When he was balls-deep inside her, he—not a fictional character—was the one fucking her. He wrapped the condom in paper and tossed it in the trash, then splashed some water on his face.
She wasn’t there when he returned.
****
He’d left the room without a word.
Lexi’s indignation threatened to kill her post-orgasmic bliss. She stubbornly ignored the small voice inside her that kept repeating she wouldn’t have allowed him more intimacy anyway. She straightened, ran her fingers through her hair until it no longer looked like she’d just been screwed face-down on her desk, and did what she always did after one-night stands. She fled.
The only difference between now and all the other meaningless sex she’d had since she left Andrew was that this time she’d had an earth-shattering orgasm. And there were tears running down her cheeks.
She spent the rest of the night loathing both herself and Ric for what had happened at the office.
At the office.
God, what if someone came back and saw them? And with Ric? Ric? How could she be so stupid? She hated him, and he hated her, and that was all that should ever be between them. What happened to be the best sexual experience of her entire life—she was still recovering from the mother of all orgasms—was something vile and degrading. The sex she and Ric had was something born of mutual hate. Nothing beautiful about it… though he was gorgeous.
But the ass couldn’t even stomach sticking around after he came.
She once more chose to disregard the fact that she’d been the one to say there was no room for sweet talk. That they didn’t do that.
Then again, she’d been talking about Xandra and Rex, hadn’t she? And if Xandra and Rex were the ones who fucked on that desk, she had nothing to feel bad about.
The woman who moaned, asked for more, and screamed her enemy’s name hadn’t been Lexi; it had been a shifter.
What happened between her and Ric wasn’t sex. It was just another chapter of an erotic romance novel.
Repeating that lie in her mind, she managed to drift off, not even bothering to wash off the traces of the tryst.
After all, it had never happened. She bit her pillow and buried a frustrated a groan. And it would never, ever happen again.
****
Ric didn’t want to go home. He wanted to get lost in the fog that matched his mood. He wanted to get wasted. Wash down the bitter taste of rejection—the confirmation of his fear that, even though Rex was part of him, Lexi could never want all of him. She’d never want the part that dreamed of her green eyes. That wanted to hold her and protect her from anything that might make those eyes misty.
His feet led him through Chinatown and to a bar he’d noticed before but never been in. A scathed and battered sign outside read Willy’s Dreams in light blue neon. It was a sleazy, dark place that didn't belong in that part of town.
Ric walked in, and the loud music assaulted his ears. He didn’t mind. Loud music meant he didn’t have to listen to his own inner whining. He headed toward the bar, pretending not to notice the glances the bar patrons—male and female—threw his way. They were appraising him, waiting to see why he’d invaded their turf. Most went back to their drinks when he met their gazes.
A small, olive skinned man looked up from the other side of the bar when Ric took a seat. He snapped a dishtowel in the air and hooked it over one shoulder. The dim overhead lighting made turned the puff of dust light blue. For a heartbeat, the specks looked like tiny jewels floating around the man’s head. “What’s your desire?” he asked.
The odd turn of phrase made Ric smile despite his shitty situation. “A blonde girl’s heart. Guess you don’t serve that, though, so I’ll have a Jack. Straight.”
“Does she have to be a virgin too?”
“Pardon?”
“The girl whose heart you want.”
Ric did a double take before realizing the bartender had just made a joke. “Sorry, mate, my sense of humor’s on leave.”
“Bad day?”
“Let’s just say my day redefined the term.” He was about to spill his guts to a total stranger, and he didn’t give a flying fuck.
“That bad?”
“Worse. Now where’s my painkiller?”
The guy poured more than a measure of whiskey and pushed the glass Ric’s way, along with a bowl of peanuts. “Who screwed up?” he asked.
The peanuts looked like they’d been around almost as long as the establishment. Ric still popped one in his mouth and chased down the stale taste with half of his drink. “Me. Her. Both.” He sucked in some air through his teeth and raised the glass to his lips for more.
“And how’s drowning your sorrows in booze gonna fix shit about it?”
Ric let out a shocked chuckle. “You realize you’re in the wrong profession for that sort of advice, yes?”
The man shrugged. “I don’t need your business. They”—he indicated just about everyone else in the room with a sweeping gesture—“practically live here. You… Well, I dunno if you’ll be good for business.”
Ric should be insulted, but didn’t feel like taking offense. “I don’t mean to run a tab here. I’m going to pay for what I drink.”
“Not what I’m talking about, big guy.” The bartender held up both palms.
Ric narrowed his eyes and waited for an explanation.
“I’ve seen my share of brokenhearted bad boys in my time. You drink enough, you start looking for trouble, or trouble finds you.”
“She’s all the trouble I’m looking for.” Ric finished his drink and held the glass out for a refill.
The bartender shook his head. “You’re not gonna find her in there. First one was on the house. Now go call your girl and patch things up. You have the right words in you. Just need to find them.”
Ric didn’t bother telling the man he had no girl—only a shag against a desk without so much as even a see you later. He stood and took out his wallet. “I said I’d pay.”
The man shook his head. “On the house. And call her.”
Ric didn’t. He went home, caught up on alcohol consumption, and passed out on the sofa. Another thing he hadn’t done in some time.
In the early morning hours, he had a dream. A memory-made-picture. The first few scenes between Xandra and Rex, as Ric read them through Lexi’s screen, played out in his mind’s eye. He woke up late for work and with a massive hangover, but not half as desolate as he’d been the night before. His subconscious had sent him a clear message—Xandra also hated Rex at first.
Ric had to drive that hatred out of Lexi.
Chapter Thirteen
Lexi had been at her desk for a couple of hours, by the time Ric got there. He had on his usual clothes and a jean jacket instead of the leather one he’d worn when they fucked, but with his hair still black and sleeked back, he was all Rex to her.
The bastard grinned. She shouldn’t have given him the satisfaction. But then she wouldn’t have felt it herself. Her pussy wouldn’t still be tender from the pounding her gave her.
Her nipples strained against the lace of her bra at the memory of his skin against her back.
Gah.
She was driving herself crazy with embarrassment and anger—anger had to be there when the best sex of her life couldn’t be repeated, even if she told herself she was only angry she gave into her baser instincts. Still, she had no intention of having people ask what was wrong. She focused on her screen and replaced the latest translation Edmund had asked for, which she’d already finished, with the next chapter of Exotic Beast.
She’d offered to do more once the translation was done, perhaps keep notes at the upcoming meeting, but Edmund turned her down. There was no real reason for her to miss out on her reading any longer, if there was no work for her to do.
Rex and Xandra were having an all-out fight, which couldn’t have been more perfect for Lexi’s mood. With every blow Xandra landed on her lover’s ego, Lexi’s spirits lifted a notch. By the end of the chapter, vampire and shifter patched things up and were laughing together, and Lexi felt chipper enough she decided to ping Angie on YIM and share what happened last night.
*
Ric’s resolution not to give up faltered to the point of almost crumbling when he passed Lexi’s desk on his way to his own. He gave her what he meant to be a friendly smile, only for her to ignore him. He managed not to flinch or miss a step and averted his gaze to hide the hurt he felt.
Whatever she played at, she wanted him. He saw it when she gave herself to him. He’d have her again soon, and he’d have her entirely. He knew what she wanted. She just needed to be reminded from time to time.