Despite myself, my cock throbbed and hardened. As it straightened and lengthened, painfully caught in the folds of my pants, it nudged its own way up. Like a heat-seeking missile it rose and found the hot pulse of her pussy and even through my jeans and her creamy leather, the end of my cock felt the heat of her wetness.
She reached down to my pants. Tugged at my belt.
“Come on, Horse. I’ve been thinking about this for five years.” My heart thundered when she looked in my eye. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been.”
Her hips rolled on my thighs. Back and forth, her shoulders straightened and her breasts heaved in my face. I held back from grabbing them with my mouth, but it was hard. She ground along my shaft, pushing to roll her hips around at the very tip. I knew she was feeling me with her clit. And again when she slid back down to the aching base, she tilted her pussy around, as she ground her swollen lips against me.
AMNIT, I KNEW it was the wrong thing to do, for every reason in the world. I had to stop it, right away. I had already done everything I could to avoid it and I’d run out of options.
When I cuffed him, though I wouldn’t ever have admitted it, it was for exactly that reason. Walking into the loft, hearing the muted echo and the quiet stillness of the big room, I felt like we were safe. Maybe only temporarily, but, for the first time in what felt like a long time.
And I was safe with him. With the man I’d been trying not to think about all that time. Trying not to dream about. The man I’d seen go to jail for something I had a burning feeling he didn’t do. The man who had fired me up and filled to the brim, licked me to a frenzy and then split me, impossibly wide. Just that one night. A few fragile hours. One fast, hard, wet night of thrashing, shouting, clawing raw sex.
The last five years, I had pushed those thoughts and memories back, pressed them away. The last couple of days, they had been vibrating at the edges of my mind, swelling and throbbing just beneath the surface. I knew that it would be hard to push them down.
When we first stepped into the freight elevator, I had my hand on my weapon, I had no idea what we would encounter when the door rattled open. As the car shuddered upwards, I moistened my lips. I couldn’t look at him. He was just a little behind me. But I felt the heat of his body. Through my jacket, my shoulder blade felt the warmth of his stomach, his hard abs. His chest.
And the heat in front of his hips brushed through the soft leather of my tight pants. The back of my thigh trembled and shook, like it called out to him. And I felt his heat as his body signaled an answer. My breath caught in my chest.
When the elevator slammed to a halt, I took a trembling breath. He leaned past me to the door and my body shook like it had an electric shock. His evil grin told me he’d felt it for certain. He could take me, right then. Right there. I knew it. And he knew it.
Then, as he dragged open the clunking door, and I saw the cool, open, empty space, the relief washed through me. The first thing I saw, at the far end, was the wide, soft, low bed. The next thing, nearer, was the radiator.
I knew that there was only one way that I could stop myself from jumping on him dragging, peeling, clawing his clothes off. Stripping out of my pants, pulling off my jacket and t-shirt. Spilling my breasts onto his face. His hips. His thighs.
The whole of the front of my body worked against me like it had a screaming need of its own. Restraining him. Physically. Cuffing him was the only way I could hope to keep myself off him. The only way I could defend myself from him. From my need for him.
Only it didn’t really work.
When I stepped out of the elevator, and he walked out behind me, I heard the easy arrogance in his footsteps on the wood floor. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to fight him off, but I thought that I could at least win the battle in myself. My whole body worked against me.
My chin lifted to open my throat for him. The insides of my thighs wanted him. My breasts perked and heated up. My lips peeled back for him.
Securing him to the radiator was my only chance. A fleeting thought, I hoped it wasn’t too hot, as I hooked my leg behind his and hit his shoulder hard with the palm of my hand. As he went down with that maddening look of amusement in his eyes, his dark, burning eyes, I reached back for the cuffs.
The plan was to secure him. Go make the call. Then, come back and make coffee. Plan. Figure out the next move. And try to get something straight in our relationship. Non-relationship. Or whatever the hell it was.
The whole thing, the whole day, all of the danger was worth it just for that look as he sank and I secured him to the radiator. Amusement with a hint of uncertain surprise. If I could only bottle that. If I could only have been satisfied with that. That should have been enough.
But no.
I followed the plan, but when I came back from the bathroom, I had to allow myself that one moment of triumph. I stood over him. Looked down. Satisfied at my work, I enjoyed the sight of him. Chained. Held. Restrained. But he overpowered me.
He sat back, one knee up. So amused and furious at the same time. And ready. Hot and pumped. My eyes travelled down, I couldn’t stop them, over his swelling chest, his hard stomach, down to the bulge in the front of his jeans. As I looked, it slowly lifted. Pointed at me. I could just about have resisted that, well, maybe, but then I looked back up.
His eyes had watched me. Watched as I studied the swelling of his cock. He watched me wanting him. What could I do then? I stepped a little closer. Stood over him. I would assert my dominance. And he breathed on my thighs. On my quivering, desperate mound. While he looked up and saw inside me. What could I do? If I hadn’t been lost already, I was hopelessly his from that instant.
Maybe if I just take a kiss, I thought. Just one. I could squat in front of him. Taunt him for a few delicious moments. Shake my shoulders, lower my eyes. Kneel. Just for a couple of seconds. Take a quick brush of my lips against his. Taste his breath for a moment and feel a little relief. Hold my body against his just for an instant.
We could give each other a break. Some refuge. Consolation. Help each other relax a little.
That went well.
I grabbed his hair as I pushed my mouth on his. His strength flooded me instantly and my body melted to slip as closely and completely to his as it could. Knowing I had to pull off my clothes made me groan with frustration. I wanted to just rip them all away, mine and his. My breasts crushed against his hard chest and my angry nipples stung as they scraped inside the infuriating bra.
My fingers relished the hard scrape of his stubble, the tangle of his hair. I yanked his face closer to mine. Under my hips, I felt him rise to seek me out. And he found me, so fast it sucked the breath from me. I clawed at his belt. I was wild, having to get through his clothes, not being able to peel mine away at the same time. I couldn’t stand another instant, separated, his skin and mine, not touching.
He grabbed my hair and pulled me back. His eyes searched mine. He looked like he was peering deep inside of me, down into the depths of me. His eyes narrowed as he whispered my name, “Vesper.” It sounded like a prayer. Or a spell. Something with magical force.
His eyes travelled to my quivering lips. Down my throat to my heaving breasts and his lip curled as he gazed farther down. As I watched his lip curl back and his teeth flashed. And his eyes snapped back into mine.
His voice grated low. “You give me hard choices, Vesper.”
My breath faltered.
“Should I kill you or should I fuck you?”
Gasping, I pulled the key to the cuffs from the back of my belt. With the key between my thumb and forefinger, I shook it in front of him. Then I sent it sliding on the hard, smooth floor, to the other end of the loft.
“That simplify the choice for you, mafia man?”
His grin was still in place. He took a pistol from his jacket. “I don’t think even the FBI has bullet-proof cuffs yet. Shall we check?”
“Okay. If you’ve got the gun, and I remember at least two others you have, you won’t need
the key, okay?”
“But should I shoot you anyway?” I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. Instinctively I pulled my long-barrelled handgun. He wasn’t aiming at me, I was glad about that and I didn’t aim at him. Pointing a gun at someone is not in the range of foreplay, at least in my book it isn’t.
He grinned wide. “Okay,” and he put his gun on the floor, pointing away from us. Spread wide across his legs and high up, my thighs trembled. He smelled like whiskey and leather. His voice scraped so low that I felt it in the pit of my stomach. “So we won’t shoot each other.” I laid my gun on the floor, too. Also pointed away.
But that was where it all went wrong. I’d crouched to put the gun down. So I was squatted over him. He looked at me like I was a rare, seared steak. Like he was considering what kind of mustard he wanted to lick off me first.
I stood. That was enough. But I was hot, so I slipped off my leather jacket. Maybe too slow. Then I looked in his eyes. I stayed focused on the sardonic grin in his eyes as I squatted back down on him. Felt his hot, hard thighs under mine. Mine trapped in the hot, tight leather.
I unbuttoned the shirt. His chin went down but his eyes stayed right on mine as my breasts were exposed to the cool air. They bounced in the scoop bra, but his tongue slipped between his lips and slid from one side to the other.
His face was near enough. His nose was almost in my cleavage. He could have taken my breasts with his mouth. With his lips. His tongue. I knew he could. I knew he wanted to. But he knew that I wanted him to. So he didn’t, the bastard. I had no way to resist that. Especially not when the abrasive ridges of his enormous cock pulsed underneath me.
I let the shit slip off. He watched attentively enough, but he didn’t move. Apart from his cock. I tried to keep my hips still. But I just needed to feel the length of him. Feel the beat of his pulse. Feel it thrum against the tearing ache in my swollen clit.
I kept my eyes on his as I unsnapped the fastening and slid the bra down my arms. I was impressed that he kept his eyes up right until I let the bra fall to the floor. He watched it fall. As his eyes came back up to meet mine, they stopped for a moment on the rise and fall of my full breasts.
In his jeans the rising didn’t stop. A steady, thickening, stiffening swell. My hips rolled just so I could feel the length of him. Just once. He couldn’t really be that long. Or that thick. Could he? I remembered that he was huge, but not this big.
It must have seemed much bigger because it was covered by the heavy denim. That’s what I told myself. Although, when I got all the way down to the base and then pulled along the hot ridges back to the hard bulge of the tip, what I was telling myself wasn’t making a lot of sense.
My heavy belt buckle needed an extra hard yank to pull it open. Then I popped the rivet buttons on my figure-hugging leather pants. I slipped off my shoes and watched his eyes narrow as I squirmed to get the leather pants over my thighs, past my knees and dragged the over my feet at last.
His focus was back in my eyes, though when I slipped my thumbs into the sides of my sheer black panties and bent to slide them down my thighs, he couldn’t help himself, taking a look, a quick tour to sample my curves. A taste of what was to come.
He reached for his belt. In no hurry, I knelt. Slapped his hand away. Not too hard. Hard enough that he knew I meant it. “No.” I told him. “My present. I’ll unwrap it.” My lips were dry. I lolled my tongue out and wet them as best I could
I wasn’t going to be able to get his jacket or his shirt completely off. No worry, though, that could work. As long as I got his shirt open and I could run my fingers over his chest. Drag my nails down his hard abs.
I knelt over him, my knees either side of his thighs. I slid my gun and his further away along the smooth wood.
“We wouldn’t want any accidents, would we?”
His breath was heavy as I leaned down and unfastened the metal buckle and unthreaded the stiff leather belt. The button was tight and hard to open. Without looking up, I felt his grin. As I popped his rivet buttons, one by one, the scent of him made my chest zing and vibrate. I licked my lips as I pulled his jeans apart and his silky claret boxers strained to contain his hardening heft.
He still looked way too big. I wondered if the loose silk could be doing that. There were a lot of folds around it, though it shoved up, hard and high like a crane in a massive tent. I wanted to look in his eye as I pulled the waistband down, watch his expression as my fingers wrapped around his skin and I pulled him free. But I couldn’t. Try as I might, I couldn’t pull my eyes off the bronzed skin of his stomach and abdomen as I exposed him.
The dagger tattoo on the front of his left hip. The tops of his thighs. Then the pop as his slick, round bulb sprang out at me. His magnificent cock bounced and I had to hold it. Electrical jolts bolted through me as I gripped him with both hands. He throbbed and pulsed in my grip.
He was so hot. So hard. And so very, very big. How could I have ever gotten that all the way inside me?
Again I wanted to tease him. Stroke him softly and look coyly up into his eyes with a little-girl twinkle in my eye as my mouth made the soft ‘O’ for the look that said, Oh, I really shouldn’t. And I failed again. My head bent down and my lips were on him. My tongue lapped the length of him, soft wet, and eager around his hard shaft.
It was a stretch to get my lips all the way over the slick head of his cock. My tongue flattened for the taste of his smooth underside as I pushed my mouth farther over the heat of his impossible thickness.
His free hand grabbed my hair. He held my head to push, to encourage me on, but he groaned as he hauled me off. Pulled me up. Dragged my face up to his. I tasted and smelled the scent of his cock on my breath. The air rasped in my throat. With my hair gripped in his fist, he bent my head back.
His voice was a low growl. “Five years, Special Agent. You sent me down, had me imprisoned for five years.”
He pulled me closer. Of course that’s what he thought. I knew it. And I could never tell him otherwise. How could I? It would mean confessing to a crime. When he thought that I had him jailed, how could I ever risk confessing to him?
And the hurt was still there, deep inside, that knowledge that I couldn’t have done more. But with no evidence, how could I? The Bureau wouldn’t ever have permitted me to investigate, even if it were my case. The local precinct were only too eager to take it, it was open and shut.
A crime was wrapped up and a perp was convicted. The fact that two kids from a senior mafia family were dead, that was a bonus as far as everyone was concerned. I had done all that I could to minimize the harm done to Horse. And, it had to be said, he wasn’t looking at all bad on it.
All that I could say was, “That wasn’t how it happened,” but my voice was scratchy and weak.
Even with one hand shackled, he was a powerful man. He turned my head hard and my body had to follow. He spun me to my hands and knees. Then he pulled on my hair to drag me back.
“I think you got me busted and I think I did five years for something I didn’t do.”
I shook my head. My eyes pleaded with him as he leaned over me. The thrill of being in his command was almost unbearable. Nothing made me lose control, not ever. And I never wanted it to. Except for now. Now, in the power of a man who had reason to kill me, and who still might do it, I wanted more than anything to submit.
His hand slid under me. He pressed hard as he drew it up my stomach to grab and squeeze my breasts. His thumb and finger tweaked and pulled and snapped my nipples. The sting was hot and delicious. I felt bad for what I had let happen to him and maybe this would be a way to work some of that out. As he took a hold of my throat, the weight of his huge cock slid along my wet slit, pushing up between my swollen lips as the head shoved against my clit.
My hips twitched uncontrollably as he moved to rub it on my mound.
Hunter: Perfect Revenge (Perfectly Book 3) Page 14