by Gennita Low
“Yes.”
He bent down again to take the key from her, and to his surprise, with her hand still in his, Tess leaned out and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
“See you two tomorrow.” She gave him a sultry smile and a wink and backed the car out.
Steve acknowledged her wave and turned toward the hotel, which sat atop a small hill. He barely paid attention to the grandeur of the hotel lobby as he made his way to the elevators. While waiting, he took note of the exit points and the few people he could see, but his mind was on Marlena upstairs. She wanted a fight? Well, he would give her one, but this time he was on equal ground.
He got on the elevator and inserted the key before punching the floor number. The red light turned green and the elevator door closed. He wasn’t going to play lackey anymore, humoring her orders and wishes. There wasn’t any need. She knew who he was and vice versa, and he didn’t see why she felt threatened by that.
He stepped out into the huge foyer. He looked for directions to find her suite. Unlike the usual plastic plaques, the numbers and arrows were etched on metal and held up by some Greek statue pointing he way. Steve’s lips quirked. Obviously the rich needed bigger road signs than normal folks.
He reached the suite, carefully considering his options. Should he ring the bell? Or should he just use the keycard and walk in? Why would that make a difference?
The door swung open and a pair of intense blue eyes met his like a laser beam. Marlena’s arm reached out and grabbed the collar of his leather jacket and pulled hard. Steve didn’t resist, following her into the suite. The heavy door closed quietly behind him.
She pushed him down into some chair by the entrance—he didn’t have time to look around yet—and jumped on top of him, squishing the air out of his lungs. Not that he was breathing. Her breath was hot against his face. Her hands were busy, moving all over him. Her lips locked on his and her tongue pushed in, fierce and sweet.
What were his last thoughts? Something about options. Steve felt her hand grope his pants, and his whole lower body jerked up when her hand invaded, targeting his suddenly wide-awake cock. He felt it eagerly rising for its treat, like a well-trained pet. Her hand was too damn efficient, sliding up the whole length of him and squeezing. Manhandling him, in fact.
He grabbed her face with both hands and forced her back. Her hair tumbled all over the place and her expression was defiant as she continued to fondle him, her thighs forcing his legs to part further so she could delve deeper into his pants.
Staring into her angry eyes, he demanded, with the little concentration he had left, “What do you think you’re doing?” He hadn’t expected this kind of attack.
“I’m marking my territory,” Marlena said, and ripped the T-shirt under his jacket. “Take these damn things off.”
***
Marlena had doubled back and seen that kiss. Fury at the thought of Stash and T together had slammed down like a tidal wave. She’d never thought much about the expression “seeing red” till she saw them so intimately close. But she did now.
It took all her control to turn away and go up to her suite. It would not do to be caught spying on them like a jealous wife. She wasn’t jealous! She wasn’t going to get jealous.
Easier said than done. In the elevator, the red monster had turned green, and it gnawed at her as she stomped into her room. Pacing only added fuel to the furnace inside her.
Did he enjoy that kiss? What was he doing now? Where was he, anyway? Did he think he could just move on to the next woman, right under her nose? Did he think that working with T meant that he could just breeze by her?
Five minutes. Where the hell was he?
When she jerked open the door, she caught sight of T’s red lipstick on his mouth. It was just a small smear, but she zeroed in on it like a bull to a waving flag. Marked him, did she? Let her mark him, did he?
Marlena didn’t stop to think about what she was doing. All she felt was the need to run her hands all over him, to let him know exactly who turned him on and not let him forget it. If it took more than once to teach him that lesson, well, so be it. She had all night.
“Take the damn things off!” she repeated, and shredded another piece of what was left of the front of his T-shirt.
Steve’s reply was equally ferocious. With one hand he ripped her lacy black blouse from collar to sleeve, exposing flesh and bra. “All’s fair,” he growled.
Marlena lunged forward and bit him on the chest, marking him. He grunted and half pushed, half lifted her off him as he tried to get off the chair. She bit harder, mad as hell that he was fighting her.
She was going to take a chunk out of him! Steve grabbed her by the neck, and using his free arm, finally stood up. Obviously, the woman wasn’t in the mood to talk. That was fine by him. If she wanted war, he was willing to oblige. His hand still on her neck, he turned her around and quickly wrapped his arms under hers, but she was a second faster, having anticipated his locking motion. He only managed to grab part of her short jacket and she shrugged out fluidly, like wet soap in his hand. He threw her jacket over his shoulder as he went after her.
She dropped down sideways, tripping him over her. He used his hands to break his fall, and she took the opportunity to land on his back. Steve grunted as she kneed him where it hurt. He felt her hand pull aside his leather jacket. He had stuck Dankin’s knife back there earlier.
Shit. He lay perfectly still as the sharp blade swished through the air above him, cutting with proficient ruthlessness. He heard the scrape of leather against metal. Well, it had been a nice leather jacket. She kneed him harder as she cut through belt and pants. He was going to have a bad bruise there. Then her hand was on his naked back, pushing aside whatever was left of his clothes. The moment she stopped brandishing that knife he reared up, toppling her backward, and turning quickly he grabbed her ankle.
Marlena kicked out at him. And left a boot behind when she pulled back. Still on his knees, he tossed it over his shoulder. She rolled several times to avoid his quick counter moves, losing her other boot as he tried to grab that leg. He finally lunged forward and gripped her around the waist, using his weight to pin her.
Marlena knew she was at a disadvantage as long as she remained on the defensive. Instinct and training made her twist at the same time, and his weight caught behind her thighs, his hands still holding on to her waist. She faked a jab at him with the knife, knowing he would try to block it. Sure enough, he tried to grab her hand, and she immediately dropped the knife and used both her hands to help her twist and scoot forward. Right out of her pants.
Steve growled at the empty pair of pants in his hands and under his body. He pushed them out of the way. His glare was met with an equally determined one as she looked back at him while she scooted on all fours to a safer distance. He wiped the sweat dripping off his chin. That was it. No more Mr. Nice Guy. He stood up. And his shredded pants fell down in a dismal pool around his ankles. He kicked them off impatiently, along with his boots. A low rumble escaped his lips as he stalked his prey.
Slowly standing up, Marlena registered with a vague awareness she was wrestling in her underwear. Her opponent was more beast than man at the moment, tattered clothing hanging on his magnificently sculpted body, barely hiding his briefs. The muscles on his bare legs were coiled with tension, bringing every line of sinew into relief. His hair stuck out where she’d pulled at it, parts of it plastered against his forehead. She met his eyes.
They were midnight-black, glittering back at her, promising punishment. And her heart, already beating hard from exertion, roared like a runaway train. The wildness in his eyes called to the wildness in her heart. His nose flared as he stalked closer, as if he were really some wild animal scenting a mate. She bent her knees slightly, ready to counter any attack.
For endless charged seconds they stared at each other. There was fury. And excitement. And white-hot desire.
“War? Or love?” he asked, making both sound like a threat.<
br />
War. She hated his guts. Love. She wanted him like no other man. Both. “You’re on,” she snarled, eyes narrowing.
They both leaped at each other at the same time.
***
Arms grabbed and pushed. Legs kicked and twined together. And their bodies rolled across the thick soft carpet. A lamp fell over with a crash. A vase tumbled off its stand, barely missing Steve’s head. He had pulled off some material from somewhere, and it wrapped itself around the leg of the coffee table as Marlena rolled on top of him. Steve flipped her back, pulling off whatever was left covering her body.
A soft groan, quieted by a conquering mouth. Flesh slid against flesh as hands ruthlessly explored each other, making each other moan, pushing each other higher.
Finally pinning her with his weight, Steve clamped his teeth down on Marlena’s neck, sucking on her rapid pulse, tasting her feminine saltiness, holding her down as he forced her legs wide apart. She jerked her hips left and right, avoiding his thrusts; he bit down a little harder, making her gasp. Her nails were sharp where they dug into his back. He put his hand between her legs, palming her ready wetness with a wicked touch. She jerked again and her nails dug harder. And still she refused to let him in, bucking him off the moment he tried to thrust inside.
He would make her stay still yet. Throwing her legs over his shoulders, he started loving her with his mouth instead. With her trussed up and open wide in that position, every attempt she made to escape only served to give him better access to her sweetness, and the advantage was his.
He feasted. He licked. He used his lips and tongue and teeth as she fought off her climax. Her scent drove him crazy and he opened her wider, delving his face against her heat as he kept making love to her with his fingers. Her hands in his hair at first pulled, then roamed, then stopped altogether. Her pants became whimpers. That was when he got to the dessert. He licked around it. He stabbed his tongue softly on its protective cover, repeating until her whimpers became gurgles. He took his wet fingers out of her and slid them along the side of the nub. He blew on it. Her hips swiveled higher, begging him silently. He pinched it with his fingers. He had her now. He could feel every tensed muscle in her legs locked securely over his shoulders. Mine. Mine. He parted her with his fingers. Such a tiny little nerve, and all his. He twirled the pink quivering nub delicately with his tongue, then placed his whole lips around it, and sucked. Hard. She screamed his name. And this time, with a violence that almost knocked him over, she came.
This was how he wanted her. Screaming for him. Wanting him. Giving herself to him. His own need was sharp and painful, a heavy throbbing thudding between his legs. No. This time he had to be the one in control longer. It was war. He was going to conquer this woman. He took one final taste, burying his tongue in the tangy heat, and slowly dragging it over her clitoris. Her wet release only fed his already burning desire.
Marlena was still lost in a spiraling vortex of pleasure when Steve climbed back on top of her. He dragged her hands high above her head, lacing his fingers through hers, and kneed her legs apart. Spread-eagle and still climaxing, she didn’t struggle when she felt him prodding, pushing determinedly into her softness. He squeezed her hands as he entered, making sure she couldn’t fight back. Not that she wanted to. He felt too good. The friction of his hard possession against her already sensitized flesh made her moan, and she shivered as she started peaking again.
His groin ground against hers, and as if that wasn’t enough for him, he pushed in deeper still, undulating against her clitoris, sending lightning up and down her spine. Marlena went limp, letting her body take over.
He seemed happy to remain buried in her all the way, just flexing inside her. Something vibrated inside whenever he touched a certain place, driving her crazy with lust and need. And always, each flex inside rubbed him against her on the outside, too, until she couldn’t tell where one climax ended and another began. Sensation spread like wildfire all the way to some center inside and her head fell back as each wave hit her, and she clenched around his hard invasion, needing more of him.
That’s when Steve lost control, and he jack-hammered in and out of her. She was slick from coming, and the silky possession of her body felt incredible. Tight. Hot. Eyes closed, totally lost in this sensual paradise, he changed his angle and heard her strangled cry. There, she liked it there. His pleasure doubled as he felt her long ripples of ecstasy massage his whole length over and over.
More. He needed her to give him more. He buried in deep again and flexed.
And still Marlena kept climaxing, unable to rise to the surface, hit over and over by the darkest of pleasures, hearing her heartbeat. His heartbeat. Feeling the hard pounding of his body into hers as those waves tossed her around in some magical space. She wasn’t sure what he did, but she felt like dying. He was everywhere—in her, on her, scenting the air she gasped in, totally commanding all her senses. Out of control, her body continued to milk him greedily, even as her thighs trembled from the tension of each climax.
Suddenly he stopped, a rough growl escaping him, as if his body protested what his mind commanded. “Look at me.” His order was harsh with emotion, bringing her back to reality.
He rose above her again, making her ache for him to come back. She opened her eyes reluctantly to meet his, dark and heated with lust, his lips sensual as he pleasured himself against her. His expression was triumphant, very male, very satisfied with himself.
“You can’t hold me down forever.” She meant to sound challenging, but her voice came out weak and breathless. His little thrusts were torturous. She wanted him to come back into her all the way. Little tremors shook her body. “You can’t hold my hands above my head all night.”
“You think not?” he taunted softly, his smile mocking her attempt to distract him. He lifted his hips slightly, then plunged into her deep velvet heat again, all the way. Her quick exhalation puffed gently against his face—warm and moist, like the rest of her. All his. He felt like a conquering barbarian. He felt like the wild animal that had won his mate after a fight. He smiled down and adjusted his hold slightly, pulling both her hands to each side of her face. “Honey, this is standard position for me. A Navy SEAL can easily do a hundred push-ups.”
“A hundred?” She breathed out faintly. Could she take a hundred strokes?
“Or more,” he murmured, and started demonstrating.
His breathing fell into a rhythm while he moved in and out of her as if he did sexual push-ups every day. His eyes were half closed as he gyrated against her sexually every time he impaled her, each slide keeping contact with that part of her that seemed to belong only to him.
For once in a long time, Marlena lost all sense of control, letting the man above her take over. This wasn’t sex. This was claim staking, and she recognized it even as she wanted him to continue. He was male to her female, claiming her with his body, stamping her with his scent, searing her with his kiss. And she had never felt more wanted.
“I think I’ll do this all night,” he muttered to himself. “Keep you wet. Keep you wanting. Keep you coming for me. Yeah, like that.”
Her spasms started with a slow shudder, responding to the sexual promises he whispered in her ear. Oh God, she couldn’t possibly do it again. What he was telling her shouldn’t excite her, shouldn’t make her feel like this. She shook her head, trying to clear it.
“Come again, sweetheart.” That velvet voice seduced her, even as her body started obeying. She heard her own deep-throated whimpers as she did as she was told.
“Again,” he commanded, his tongue exploring her ear, stealing the last vestiges of rational thought. “Once more. Yeah.”
She climaxed again. And again. Every deep stroke caressed her insides, pulling waves of pleasure that went on and on. She could scarcely breathe, as she gasped at each tremor. And then he, too, began to shudder as he gave in to his own need. A deep groan rumbled from his chest as his hips moved faster and faster. She was vaguely aware of the pas
sionate kiss he gave her, plundering her mouth. The muscles on his arms corded thickly as his body tensed in mid-plunge.
“Lena...”
“Stash...”
There wasn’t any breath left for words. His hands were still holding her down when he collapsed on top of her. Their bodies were slick against each other. Dazed by the whole experience, Marlena could barely move. He finally rolled onto his back, breathing hard. She curled up on her side and tried to remember the last time she’d fallen asleep on the floor of a hotel room.
She didn’t have the luxury to recall anything. An arm scooped under her and she was pulled onto her knees, then onto her feet. “Oh no,” Steve whispered in her ear, as he swung her into his arms. “That was war. Now we get in bed and we make love.” He looked around. “Where is the bedroom in this place, anyway?”
***
Marlena opened one eye. The bedroom light was still on, but from her vantage, she couldn’t see much. There was an obstacle in her way. On top of her, actually. Approximately one hundred and ninety pounds. Six feet of musculature and testosterone. A sex machine whose switch had been on most of the night.
She didn’t dare move. Mr. Happy Down There might still be awake, and she was much too sore to even contemplate going another round.
She should be damn mad. And uncomfortable to have a man sleeping on top of her. Yet, she wasn’t. She felt...satiated. Happy. Wonderfully at ease. When he’d taken her to bed last night, Stash had made good on his promise. He’d made love to her all night. Slow and satisfying. The kind of loving that made a woman feel...She jerked her head up the few inches allowed her, shock reverberating through her body. Oh no. She had almost said in love...oh no...
“Don’t move,” Steve ordered sleepily. His chest rumbled in her ear, and his masculine scent wafted through her senses as his chest hair tickled her nose.
In love...oh no...Her denial was automatic, conditioned from years of training herself to keep an emotional distance. Especially from men like Stash McMillan. She shook her head, or tried to, and instead tortured herself with his scent again.