by Tara Quan
“No.” He squeezed her breast, his grip tight enough to make her gasp. “I want you to watch.” Shifting his hold to the neglected mound, he repeated the motion before flicking her nipple with his thumb.
Obeying his command, she lifted her lids and focused on her captor’s reflection. She noticed his now ruddy skin, the protruding veins at his temples and along his arms, the stress lines bracketing his mouth. Against her back, his chest lifted and fell, the erratic motion mirroring her own. He teetered on a razor’s edge, and she wanted nothing more than to make him fall.
Sliding a hand between them, she brushed his crotch. “Then stop playing.”
With a curse, he freed her, grabbed both her wrists, and pinned them to the mirror. Using his body, he pressed her against the wall, flattening her breasts on the smooth surface. Imprisoned, all she could do was focus on each breath as he unbuckled his belt. She could feel the slide of metal against her bottom, the shifting cloth as he unzipped his pants and pulled them halfway down his hips.
A long, burning shaft slid between her thighs, the hard ridge brushing over her wet folds and reducing her legs to jelly. He pulled her toward him before pushing down on her lower back. She bent forward at the waist, aligning her forearms to the wall to brace her weight.
He reared back.
“Wait.” With the last wisp of coherent thought, she magicked a condom from her cosmetic bag into her clasped hands.
Prying it from between her thumbs, he glanced at the packet. “Her Pleasure?”
“At least, I remembered.” Thank goodness she’d stopped at the drugstore before coming here.
With a soft crackle, the packet tore. Pink foil landed on the floor between her feet. He pressed one palm above her bottom, the pressure forcing her to arch her back. As the head of his cock probed, he looped his free arm around her.
Her vision hazed when he parted her labia and circled. He pushed into her inch by torturous inch. His size would have been too much if not for the electric sensations pulsing from her clit. She rested her face on her wrists, watching their reflection out of the corner of her eye. His skin glistened, his dark hair draping over his forehead and cheeks. His lips were pursed, jaw tensed, brows drawn together. His blazing eyes seemed glued to her body, his intent gaze burning with unmistakable hunger.
He jerked his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. She whimpered and shifted in a belated attempt to escape. Wet as she was, it’d been years, and she’d never been taken quite this way.
To her surprise, he remained still, allowing her to adjust. When the uncomfortable stretching eased, he pulsed his thumb over the bundle of nerves controlling her pleasure. Her straining muscles relaxed, her lids fluttering as dark spots marred her vision.
The palm at her lower back moved to mold over her breast. She heard her own high-pitched moans and sharp gasps, saw beads of sweat form on her forehead and chin. He continued to stimulate her while sliding in and out of her from behind. She couldn’t decide what was worse—the burning friction of each penetration or the alternating pressure over her abused nipples. It didn’t take long before her muscles began to spasm, the coil at her core winding tighter each time she drew breath.
“Leo, please.” She had no idea what she was begging for. “It’s too much.”
He released her breast and removed his hand from between her legs, allowing the urgent yearning to ease for a split second before shifting to grip her waist. Then the slow, torturous impalement quickened to pumping thrusts, the steady deep penetration both torture and ecstasy.
The elevator echoed with her moans and his guttural cries, their breaths synchronizing as he continued to drive into her. Her hanging breasts swayed forward and back with each impact, her back arching in surrender and invitation. A deep fiery red ate into her vision. Her inner muscles clenched, her over-stimulated clit responding to the continued assault with urgent pulses.
“Fuck.” Leo’s harsh voice almost didn’t register. His hips jackhammered, his cock pounding into her in an erratic rhythm. He pulled her to meet each entry, forcing himself deeper.
Then something inside her snapped. Her world blazed white.
Chapter Six
Seated on a marble elevator floor with a lumpy pink duffel cushioning his back, Leo struggled to wipe the smug grin off his face. With mirrors to his right and left, he could see how ridiculous he appeared with his chest bare and his hair a mess. Having just experienced the most mind-blowing sex of his life didn’t mean he should gloat. After all, his life had become exponentially more complicated.
Wearing a T-shirt and panties from her bag, Cat lay curled up with her head on his lap. Glancing at the time on his BlackBerry, he tucked the curtain of hair covering her face behind her ear. Though his leg had gone numb from poor circulation, his lower back and butt muscles aching from recent activity, he couldn’t seem to get the corners of his mouth to turn down. “Come on, kitten. Wake up. The elevator will be moving soon. Get some pants on.”
Batting at his hand, she mumbled, “I’m awake.”
He chuckled and pinched her cheek. He hadn’t realized a groggy woman could still be sexy. “Sure, you are.”
Sighing, he decided to allow her an additional two minutes. Aside from the clothing issue, everything was set for their departure. They’d cleaned up as best they could, using the remaining wet wipes in her cosmetics bag, and he’d disposed of all the trash with a flash of green flames. This whole fire-power thing was beginning to grow on him. With everything packed away, she’d claimed a need to rest her eyes and fallen into an exhausted sleep.
Having been the one who’d driven her into this weakened state shouldn’t bolster his ego, but he was man enough to admit deriving significant satisfaction from the accomplishment. After all, trying to adhere to the ladies-first rule had damn near killed him. Glancing at their reflection, he noticed the crescent fingernail marks on his shoulders. He bent his neck to examine her sleeping form before tracing the hickeys he’d left on her nape and thighs. She shifted, a soft purr rumbling in her throat. And even though he was in no condition for round two, blood pooled in his groin.
Shit. The last thing he needed was to have her think him a sexed-up freak. With her cheek pressed against his thigh, her head was too close to his growing erection for comfort. “I’m serious about the jeans. Get up, so I can put my shirt on.”
“Mmhmm….”
Grabbing her shoulders, he dragged her into a seated position. She yawned and rubbed her left eye with one fist, the act reminding him very much of her cat form. “We won’t need to skedaddle for at least another fifteen minutes. I have low-grade precognition.”
That would make surprising her with gifts somewhat difficult. He dug behind him and tossed the necessary item of clothing onto her lap. “Any other tricks you want to tell me about? Come on, you’re already up. Make yourself presentable for the sake of my sanity, if nothing else.” He couldn’t stomach the thought of any other man seeing her in panties and a short T-shirt, which added irrational jealousy to his list of symptoms.
Casting him a sideways glance broadcasting pure feminine superiority, she rose and did as he asked, making sure to wiggle her gorgeous bottom as she huffed and puffed her way into slightly too-tight jeans. “Forget the shirt. You might as well show off those pecs.”
Accepting the compliment with a nod, he flexed his legs to stimulate blood flow. “I don’t want to cause a riot in the lobby. Chicks can get weird about muscle definition. Then there’s the matter of shoes and socks.”
Her lashes fluttering, she sent him a disbelieving glare. “Doing chest presses at home alone is messing with your head. Join a gym. It’ll give you a reality check.”
He stood and grabbed his crumpled shirt. After sliding his arms into the sleeves, he focused on the buttons while suggesting in the most casual tone possible, “We can check out the one around the corner. I hear they give roommate discounts, now.”
When he lifted his gaze, he found her leaning against one wal
l with her arms crossed. “So, you’re not terminating my familiar contract? You said earlier I’m a free woman.”
He wished he could read her expression. “Verbal concessions said in passing aren’t legally binding. That said, it’s your call. You’re the expert.”
She twisted her lips to the side. “We have such chemistry. You have no idea how rare it is. I’d hate to see all this potential go to waste.”
He’d rather she weren’t talking about their professional relationship. “I do have ethical issues with slave labor.”
She rolled her eyes. “You pay me a very good salary, and I get a fifty-grand bonus in eighteen months.”
His jaw dropped. “From a contract I’ve never even seen? Can my bank account handle it?” She’d be the one to ask, seeing as how she’d acted as the accountant for his inherited estate this entire time.
She strode over, his shoes and socks somehow materializing in her grasp. “Don’t you read the financial reports I send you every month?”
He grabbed the proffered items and knelt to put them on. He’d created a filter, sending all those e-mails into an Outlook folder he never checked. “I’ve been busy. So, you want to stay roommates, huh?”
She sat on her knees in front of him. “Of course. If you remember, Nonna’s will left me half your house.”
A valid point. “So we’ll be like, you know, roommates who sometimes have sex with each other?” The words came out in a rush. He had no idea why his voice went high pitched at the end of the sentence.
Dimples decorated her cheeks. “I guess there’s no one else I want to sleep or live with. As long as we can work out a more equitable division of chores….”
He jerkily nodded before he recalled the importance of masking enthusiasm. “Sure. I’ll do whatever you want.” He almost smacked his head. Talk about starting down a road toward being whipped.
Her Cheshire-cat grin confirmed his fate. She stuck out her hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
With a sigh, he met her palm with his. This might not be the best time to ask about her Thanksgiving plans.
~A Letter from Tara Quan~
Dear Reader,
Thank you for taking a look at my paranormal series, A Witch’s Night Out. I’ve always been a huge fan of witches and warlocks, and I’ve had loads of fun creating my own. I keep my stories lighthearted, the angst to a minimum, and the sex just hot enough to make your face grow warm. In all my romances, I aim for a few laughs, handful of clever twists, and a scorching happily ever after.
In Flirting with Fire, I got to show off Washington, D.C, the place I now consider home, and drew inspiration from the legal world I dipped my toe into many moons ago. As the first genuinely nice guy I’ve written, attorney Leo Difuoco is a hero I’ll always have a soft spot for, even though I couldn’t resist letting his familiar Catalina drive him crazy.
If I’ve managed to keep a smile on your face for a few hours, then my goal as a writer is met. I love hearing from readers, so feel free to drop me a line at [email protected]. You can find out more about my other books and various social media haunts at www.taraquan.com.
~Tara Quan
Delicious Delay
When Michelle Day ends up stranded in a Middle Eastern airport, she meets an abrasive but all-too-sexy stranger. Her attire earns his disapproval before they even speak, and verbal exchanges soon lead to mutual animosity.
But as the only two passengers with access to the business-class lounge, avoidance isn’t an option. She soon discovers the man’s surliness masked sexual attraction, and his eventual pursuit kindles her own response. Before long, she finds herself tempted by a relentless Arab playboy to explore her wild side in the least appropriate locations.
Operation Owl
Five years ago, Maya Jain kissed her best friend only to have him run out of her dorm room and leave the state. When he shows up in Washington, D.C., a wanted fugitive sought after by every branch of the US government, she can’t bring herself to ignore his plight. As their physical relationship picks up where it left off, she decides it’s time to make him see her as more than the bespectacled, bookish girl he once called “Owl.”
After being accused of espionage and treason, Zack Strong needs a forensic accountant to help clear his name. Not knowing who he can trust, this white-hat hacker has no choice but to ask his former best friend and math tutor for help. Together they unravel a cyber conspiracy at the Barn, an NSA facility tasked to intercept electronic communications. But as they traverse the nation’s capital to avoid capture, Maya insists on letting their simmering sexual tension take its natural course. Even though he’s never been able to shake the memory of their one kiss, he refuses to let her give up her life for a man with no future.
Contents
Title page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
~A Letter from Tara Quan~