She’d never wanted him to close the distance so badly as she did now. Never wanted a kiss as much as she did in this moment.
“You don’t want to be dirty, do you, Victoria?”
Her breath was coming faster. “It’s not just me.”
“No, but I’m willing to come to terms with it. This week I’m letting myself be as dirty, as filthy as I want to be.” He leaned forward slightly, his breath against her mouth, warm and smoky with the whisky. “And I’m giving you permission to be dirty too.”
“I….” She swallowed. “I don’t need your permission.”
“No, but you want it. You want it from someone.” An inch farther, their lips nearly touching. “So take it from me.”
She was almost dizzy with hunger. And when he brushed his mouth against hers, she couldn’t stop the soft sound that escaped, or prevent herself from leaning in, wanting more. But it he didn’t deepen the kiss, keeping their lips just touching. “Be dirty, Victoria,” he murmured. “And tell me what you want.”
“I want you to take your clothes off,” she said shakily. “I don’t want to be the only one who’s naked.”
He eased back, his gaze searching hers. And she realized belatedly there were layers to that statement she hadn’t meant. At least not consciously.
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he abruptly lifted his tumbler and drained it, putting it on the side table next to the armchair. And in a smooth, economical movement, pulled his T-shirt up and over his head, throwing it carelessly onto the floor beside the chair.
Victoria took an uneven breath, unable to take her eyes off him as he pushed his jeans down his hips, taking his boxers with them, the tight, hard muscles of his abdomen flexing as he eased them lower. Sliding them down his muscular thighs, long calves and finally off onto the floor. He kicked them away then resumed his position in the chair, his legs outstretched, his hands on the arms of the chair, staring at her. Gloriously naked and so damn arrogant with it.
Tanned skin and cut muscle. Narrow hips, broad shoulders. A light sprinkling of crisp, black hair. Lean thighs and between them, the curve of his cock, already hard and ready.
She couldn’t help herself, putting her hands on his thighs and sliding up, her hands shaking. His skin was hot and she could feel his muscles tighten under her hands. She leaned forward, breathing fast, her hands moving higher to his hips then up over his chest. She’d never touched him like this before. At first she’d never thought she’d ever want to and then, after she’d caught a glimpse of the tiger hiding behind the man, she’d never thought she’d get to.
And now she was.
Be dirty…
She leaned forward even farther and pressed her mouth to his stomach, licking the salt of his skin and inhaling him. The ocean fresh scent of him had become warmer, spicy with male arousal, the heat of his cock pressing between her breasts as she leaned down.
He didn’t say anything, letting her touch him for a moment. Then he moved and she felt his body arch over hers as he bent to retrieve something from the floor, the heat of him surrounding her. It was only a second but she felt her heart go still in her chest, an intense, unfamiliar yearning to be held stealing her breath.
Stupid. Why would she want that? She’d never felt the need before so why she should want it now, she had no idea.
Connor sat back and the yearning vanished along with the warmth of him around her. She ignored the emotion, trying to concentrate on the feel of his skin as she moved her hands over him. And then his fingers knotted in her hair, tugging her up, ignoring her gasp of protest.
“Enough.” He held something in his other hand. A silver packet. “Put this on me.”
A condom. Oh yes, oh God, yes. She took it from him and ripped it open, her hands shaking only a little. Another thing she’d never done for him before. Always he’d been the one to do it.
She gripped the hard heat of him, rolling the latex down, feeling unpracticed and awkward, yet not enough to stop. He tensed under her fingers and when she looked up at him, his eyes had gone dark, like night creeping over a brilliant blue sky. “Get in my lap, dirty girl.”
She sucked in a breath. “Facing you?”
“No, away. I want to fuck you like Raphael did. Only this time, you’re going to be screaming with my cock in you, not his.”
The words were so brutally erotic she found she was trembling as she stood up, beginning to be afraid of the intensity of her desire. Surely she couldn’t be this desperate? Surely it was wrong somehow?
His hands were hard on her hips, forcing her to turn around then pulling her back into his lap. It was a shock to feel the heat of his bare skin against hers. Her own skin felt so sensitized she gasped aloud, trembling as he slid a palm over her stomach, beneath the chains around her. But he didn’t give her any time to adjust, his fingers curling under the silky fabric of her panties and pulling them ruthlessly aside. Then she was crying out as he slid one finger deeply into her sex. Her hips jerked, her back arching, pleasure flaring, bright as magnesium burning.
He added another finger, working deeper until she was shaking uncontrollably, a dim part of her appalled at how quickly she was almost at the point of orgasm.
“Connor,” she gasped as his fingers twisted, the edge so close she could almost taste it.
His free hand slid up her body, the heat of his palm cupping her breast, his thumb circling one nipple in small, gentle movements. It wasn’t enough, only prolonging the agony of pleasure.
“Please…”
But the hand between her legs disappeared. “You’re not allowed to come, understand?” His voice, dark and ragged in her ear. “Not until I’m ready for you to do so.”
He shifted beneath her and she felt the head of his cock pushing against her entrance. But only so far. She squirmed, her hands reaching down, wanting more. Desperate for it. “Connor, please…”
“No.” He took her hands and held them down on the arms of the chair, like Raphael had. “Keep your hands here and don’t you dare move them.”
She didn’t even think about disobeying this time, her nails digging into the fabric as he took his hands away from her, shifting again. Sliding deeper.
“Fuck, you’re wet.” His mouth brushed against her shoulder, her neck. “I wanted to do this slowly but you’re all slippery and hot.” His voice deepened. “You’ve got such a greedy little cunt, Victoria. It doesn’t want to wait. It’s all ready for me right now.”
And then he was sliding all the way into her and her head fell back against his shoulder, her body shaking. She was so close, the orgasm she so desperately wanted just out of her reach. His hand was on her breast, gently pinching her nipple, while the other was on her hip, pressing her down.
Oh God, she only needed a little more friction, a little more movement and she’d be there. “Now…” she murmured, hardly even aware she was speaking. “Please…Connor…now…”
“No.” His hips moved, his cock sliding out of her, then back in, deeper this time. “Not yet. Sexy, dirty little girls like you have to wait their turn.” He thrust again, his hand on her breast and hip firm, and she cried out because again it wasn’t enough.
She twisted in his lap, searching for more, but his grip only tightened still further. “Keep still. I’m not done yet.” He pinched her nipple hard, the pain not detracting from the pleasure in the slightest, only adding bright sparks to the fire already raging inside her.
“You bastard,” she groaned as he thrust harder, delivering another pinch at the same time. “You fucking bastard. I can’t…”
“I am. And you can.” His breath was harsh in her ear as he moved in a rough, desperate rhythm. “Stop that greedy little cunt of yours from coming, Victoria. You’re not allowed. Not until I say.”
The hand on her hip moved, sliding between her legs, brushing over her clit in that same light,
gentle way as he had when she was with Raphael. A caress at odds with his hard, vicious thrusts and the rough pinch on her nipple.
She wailed, her body arching in his arms. Because it was impossible. No matter how much she wanted to hold out, to do what he said, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to. Not with him touching her, or with the filthy words he whispered in her ear, the feel of him inside her.
She tried to fight it, tried to hold back, but her body began to gather itself anyway. “No,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
“Do as you’re told, you gorgeous little bitch,” he said roughly. Then he bit her, his teeth sinking into the incredibly sensitive skin between shoulder and neck.
It was too much. The hard words, the pain of the bite, the intense pleasure of him inside her, the pinch on her breast. Every nerve ending ignited, pleasure overwhelming her.
She screamed, burning like a torch, and then screamed again, her body bucking against his hold. His voice was in her ear but she didn’t hear. There was roaring in her head and lights behind her eyes. And she was lost.
Utterly lost.
And it felt like it took eons to come back to herself, and when she did she was still trembling like a leaf. Connor’s hands were on her, stroking down her shoulders and her arms, murmuring in her ear, soothing her. But she didn’t feel soothed. She felt stripped bare, oversensitive to every touch and the gentleness of his hands only seemed to make it worse.
“Stop.” The word came out harsh but she didn’t try to make it sound any less so. “Connor, stop.”
The movement of his hands stilled. “What is it?” His voice sounded almost as cracked as hers, yet that didn’t make her feel any better. In fact, it only made things worse.
“I need that five minutes.” The safe space he’d promised her.
“Sure, but—”
She didn’t wait for the rest, pushing away from him and stumbling on shaky legs toward the doorway, heading for the bathroom situated down the hall a little way.
Shutting the door, she cleaned herself up, trying to avoid looking in the mirror, not wanting to even see herself. Because she was sure she was different now and if she was, she didn’t want to know.
She couldn’t afford to be different. She couldn’t be the woman who liked giving blowjobs in the hallway and got off on being called a sexy little bitch. What she needed was to get home, have a shower and wash away all the evidence. Be the person she’d been for the past five years. The person she knew and was familiar with. Comfortable with.
Shivering, she reached for the door handle and pulled it open.
Connor was standing in the hallway outside, muscular arms folded, straight dark brows lowered. He’d pulled on his jeans and now she felt even more exposed given what she was wearing.
“Are you okay?” His frown deepened. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She took a deep, silent breath. “Is my five minutes up?”
“Yes.”
“In that case I’ve decided I’m going home.”
Connor’s frown became a scowl. “What?”
“You said after five minutes if I don’t want to continue, I don’t have to. So I’ve decided not to continue.” She didn’t wait for him to protest, brushing past him and going over to where her trench coat still lay in the middle of the hallway. Picking it up, she put it on, belting it tightly around her waist.
“What the hell, Victoria? I made you dinner. Stay for that at least.”
Oh God, had he? She glanced at him, seeing the anger flickering in his eyes.
He’ll make you pay for that. And you’ll love every second.
Her heartbeat accelerated, desire twisting inside her.
No, she couldn’t stay. She’d already gone too far, slipped too much from the person she thought herself to be. She couldn’t allow herself to slip any further.
“I’m sorry, Connor.” And she turned, making for the front door.
“I won’t sign those fucking papers,” he said roughly. “You know that.”
She paused but didn’t turn. “You said a week. I’ll be here tomorrow.”
Then she went out.
Chapter Seven
Connor stared at the computer screen and realized he’d read the same paragraph of the judgment he’d been researching at least five times and still hadn’t taken in any of it. Cursing, he pushed himself away from his desk and stalked to the window of his office. It was raining outside, the city buildings nearby lost in another typical Auckland downpour.
He really should be getting on with the mountain of reading he had to do for this case. The kid the police wanted to prosecute had shot his father, but the defense was trying to get the murder charges dropped, claiming the kid had been abused. There had been no concrete evidence of the abuse, but it was clear the kid had hated his father.
Sound familiar?
Connor deliberately didn’t think about that. He watched the rain instead.
In all honesty though, it was hard to concentrate on anything with his head so full of the night before. Of Victoria screaming out her orgasm in his arms. Right before she walked out the door without any explanation at all.
Familiar anger simmered inside him, thick and hot, disproportionate to what had happened. Especially since he’d got what he wanted, hot sex and a couple of orgasms. No, she hadn’t stayed the whole night and yes, that was disappointing. But surely not enough for him to quite so pissed off with her? After all, she’d promised she’d be back tonight.
Yet that reasoning did nothing for the anger sitting acidly in his gut.
The way she’d left made him wonder if he’d done something wrong, something she didn’t like. Hurt her in some way.
Why should you care, though? She said you didn’t hurt her. What’s the problem?
He let out a breath, staring at the gray rain outside. Christ, he didn’t know. He kept thinking of that look in her eyes as she’d knelt at his feet, the one that looked right through him. And then the way she’d touched him in the lounge after he’d taken his clothes off, her hands shaking with desperation. As if she’d been waiting for that moment for a long, long time…
I don’t want to be the only one who’s naked.
There had been uncertainty in her eyes, fear and reluctance. She’d been conflicted, that much had been clear to him. And no wonder. The sexual intensity between them had been unexpected and difficult to deal with after years of not having it at all.
But perhaps there was more to it than just unexpected chemistry.
Perhaps there was always more to it and you just didn’t notice?
Connor scowled at the rain. Christ, why was he thinking about this? It was only sex between them and that’s all he wanted. One week, no more. She’d promised him she’d be there tonight so what was the big deal?
One thing he did want was a whole damn night though, not her walking out without explanation again. Which meant if he didn’t want a repeat of what happened the night before, he had to figure out exactly what her problem was.
He took his phone out of his pocket, deciding to give her a heads up about what he expected from her tonight in a quick text: Be prepared tonight to explain why you left the night before. Then he put it away and sat back down at his desk, trying to get his head back into the case. If he wanted to keep his reputation as a crusader for justice, this murder charge needed to stick.
Five minutes later his phone buzzed. Not a text. A call. He pulled it out and glanced down at the screen. It was Victoria. He pressed the answer button. “If you’re calling to tell me you’re not coming tonight, please remember our agreement.”
There was a small hesitation. “I’m not calling to tell you that.”
“Then why? You have a problem with explaining why you ran away?”
“I did not run away.”
“Yes, you did. I want to know why.�
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“You don’t get to ask me questions, Connor. That’s not what this week is about.”
“This week concerns what I want, and if I want an explanation as to why you ran out on me, I will fucking have one.”
She was silent, the phone line seeming to vibrate with the anger in his voice. Christ, what the hell was he doing? Letting that anger leak out all over the place. He had to get himself under control. Anger was not good for anyone, him least of all.
Yet he didn’t want to take it back. Because for some reason it felt good to let it out, even if it was only a little bit.
“Why do you need an explanation?” she asked finally. “What difference does it make to you why I left?”
Good question.
He dismissed the thought. “Because I want a night, Victoria. A whole night. Which means you need to tell me what went wrong so I can fix it. So it doesn’t happen again.”
“What if I left because of you? Because you wouldn’t sign those damn papers? What if fixing it would only require a signature?”
He sat back in his chair, staring at his computer screen. “Don’t tell me you don’t want this, Victoria. Don’t tell me you aren’t looking forward to another night together as much as I am.”
She was silent.
“It’s not about the signature,” he went on when she didn’t speak. “It’s about the sex, isn’t it? And before you say anything, if you tell me you didn’t want it and you lied to me last night, then God help me you will never get those fucking papers.”
The silence stretched out for so long he thought for a second she’d gone. Then she said, “Why do you keep holding that over my head?”
His jaw tightened. “I have to use something. I’d never get anything out of you if I didn’t have some kind of leverage.”
“You’ve never wanted anything from me before.”
A memory abruptly filtered through the anger inside him. Of coming home that day and finding the letter from Jessica, a child he never knew she had. A child she’d had years ago and hadn’t told him. And of the way she’d closed up when he’d forgotten himself and demanded answers, turning her back on him and walking away.
Living in Secret: Living In..., Book 3 Page 10