by Levine, Nina
Jesus, she wasn’t making this easy. I inhaled sharply and then exhaled while taking a moment to look at everything I’d be saying no to. Lily’s body was made for sin. My kind of sin. There was no fucking doubt about that. She had curves everywhere a woman should have curves. And while I knew they could handle the kind of shit I wanted to do to her, I wasn’t convinced her mind could. And if she were sober, she wouldn’t be in here begging me to do anything to her.
I was so fucking engrossed in her body that she managed to undo my belt and get my fucking zip half way down before I stopped her.
Fucking hell, she needed to fucking leave. I was this close to losing myself in her and demanding every dark thing I wanted from her. “This isn’t fucking happening, Lily,” I growled, stepping away from her. “You need to get off that desk and go the fuck home.”
She moved off the desk and came my way. “Why?” Her eyes demanded just as much from me as her words, and I felt my control slipping further away. “I felt you, King. You want this as much as I do.”
My mind fractured. The part of me that had accepted my depravity years ago roared to life, ready to give her what she wanted. The other part of me fought to stay in charge, fought like fuck not to go there with her.
I backed her up against the desk and gripped her throat again. “You have no fucking idea what I want. If you did, you’d run and never come back.” I glanced down at her chest, trying like hell to get a handle on the warring parts of my mind. When I looked back up at her, I said, “You need to leave before it’s too fucking late for both of us.”
She curled her hands around my biceps. “I don’t know what you mean, but I don’t care. I’m not leaving.”
Fuck.
My body thrummed with want. I fucking wanted everything she offered. And then some.
I dropped my head and rasped, “Fuck,” while my mind raced. I couldn’t fight myself any longer. I couldn’t continue saying no when all I wanted was to consume her.
I lifted my face back to hers, meeting her gaze. Spinning her around, I pressed her hard against the desk while grabbing her waist roughly. Sliding my other hand around her neck, I pulled her head to one side and growled against her ear, “Do you know what I like to do to women, Lily?” I paused, waiting for her response. When the only one she gave was a gasp, I gripped her neck tighter. “I’m rough in every way you can imagine. I’ll strip you and fuck you without a fucking care for your comfort. I’ll take what I need, over and fucking over, until you’re raw from my hands, my mouth, my dick.” As the words left my mouth, the darkness raging through me threatened to take over completely. Both Lily’s lust and her naiveté over what would truly go down between us fed that darkness in ways it hadn’t ever been fed. I’d never fucked a woman with the kind of innocence blazing from her. My voice dropped lower, as I added, “And when I’m finished, you won’t hurry back for more.”
She didn’t respond except to moan. It was that fucking moan that finally shattered my restraint.
I yanked her dress up and slid my hand inside her panties. When I had my fingers deep inside her, she moaned again. “Oh God.”
Fuck.
With my mouth still to her ear, I demanded, “Do you like pain, Lily?”
She quivered under my touch. “I don’t know.”
I circled her clit with my thumb while working her cunt. She was wet as fuck, and hell if that didn’t fuck with my mind some more. “You’ve never had it while being fucked?”
“No.”
“Fuck,” I hissed. Grinding against her, I pushed her harder against the desk. “I will hurt you if I fuck you. Are you ready for that?”
She didn’t answer me, though, so I spun her around to face me. Grabbing her face, I said, “Answer me. Are you ready for me to hurt you?” With every passing second, I was losing myself to this.
She panted as she nodded. “Yes.”
I searched her eyes. She was saying yes, but it had to be the alcohol talking. Lily was too good, too pure for my filth. My dick was harder than it had ever been, I was fucking sure of that. And yet, I wouldn’t touch her. Not in the way I truly wanted to. I’d give her what she thought she wanted, and then I’d send her home and never fucking lay a hand on her again.
“You have no fucking idea what you’re asking for,” I growled before dropping to my knees and yanking her panties off.
Holding her legs, I buried my face in her cunt and ate her like a fucking starved man. I allowed my dark need to take over while I worked her towards the orgasm she desperately wanted. I wasn’t gentle with her in any way. And yet, her moans filled my ears, encouraging me closer to the edge I didn’t fucking want to go near.
My moves became rougher.
More demanding.
My touch was relentlessly harsh.
And she loved every fucking minute of it.
She came hard, and I had to claw myself away from her.
She was pushing me towards the fucking brink, and I had to get her the fuck out of here.
I stood and met her gaze. “You’ll never be ready for me.” I shoved her panties at her. “Get dressed. I’ll take you home.”
Without waiting for her response, I stalked out of the office. I needed a fucking minute, and I needed to put some space between us while I took that minute. Otherwise, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself from taking what I truly wanted.
Christmas with Sydney Storm
These chapters take place at Christmas time which in the timeline of the series occurs between Nitro's Torment and Devil's Vengeance.
Chapter One
Evie
Staring at the empty Tupperware container on the kitchen counter, I worked through the various options of what I could do to my husband in return for him eating all the rum balls I’d made. If my out-of-control hormones and the heartburn and backache our baby was causing me weren’t enough to turn me into a raging bitch, this would do it.
Drawing a deep, barely controlled breath, I exited the kitchen and made my way into the laundry. Flinging the washing machine open, I jammed as many dirty clothes in as I could fit before slamming the door closed. I then reached for the detergent, still working hard to get my emotions under control.
Pregnancy wasn’t for pussies, that was for damn sure. If my marriage survived this pregnancy it would be a fucking miracle because most days I wanted to reach for Kick’s balls and twist them as hard as I could so that he had to endure some kind of suffering, too.
“Fuck, what have I done now?”
I turned to look at Kick who stood in the hallway just outside the laundry, but I didn’t answer his question because I didn’t want to fight with him on Christmas morning.
He took a step closer to me. “Evie, you doing washing right at this moment means that I’ve pissed you off. After six months of this, I know that washing is your way of trying to deal with your mood swings. And usually those mood swings are because of something I’ve done.”
“Unless you have a container full of rum balls stashed somewhere in this house, I would pretend you never came in here.” I knew I was being irrational, but I couldn’t help myself. Damn you, pregnancy.
His lips twitched, but he realised his mistake when my brows lifted and my mouth flattened in annoyance. He then did what he always did in these kinds of situations—he ignored everything I said and reached for me. Pulling me close, he said, “I’m not taking the blame for this by myself. Braden came over after you crashed last night and got stuck into them.”
I pressed my hands to his chest in an effort to move out of his embrace. “I don’t care who ate them, Kick. You shouldn’t have let him. You knew I made those for today,” I snapped. The heat only fuelled my irritability. I had a good mind to move to fucking Canada to escape the rest of this bloody summer.
His arms tightened around me, and he grinned. “Keep fighting me, baby, it only gets me hard for you. You know that.”
“If you think I’m letting you anywhere near me today, you’re living in dre
amland. I’m hot, and grumpy, and this baby is getting so big I think I might explode.”
His grin disappeared and a softer expression moved across his face. “How long does it take to make rum balls?”
My irritation with him flared. “Kick, I hardly have time to make a new batch before everyone arrives for lunch!”
“Evie, how long?” His voice came out in a low rumble. It was the tone he took with me when he was about to lay down the law as he saw it.
I stared at him, taking in the determined look in his eyes. As much as I was pissed off with him, I knew that when he took that tone with me, there was no point arguing with him. Kick Hanson was one step away from making a “we clear” statement when he spoke to me like that. I exhaled a frustrated breath. “They don’t take long to make. In my current state of being hot and annoyed and slow, I’m probably looking at twenty minutes.”
“Right, give me the recipe, and I’ll take care of them. You go and do whatever it was you would have been doing rather than the washing.”
My eyes widened. “You’re going to make them?”
“You say that as if you don’t believe I could make them. How fuckin’ hard are they?”
Something he said or did, or maybe it was my dumb hormones, made me smile. And that in turn, made me laugh. Kick stared at me, waiting for an answer, and I did my best to get myself under control. “They’re not hard at all.”
“So you’re saying that if I managed to knock you up, I should be able to make some rum balls?”
Still laughing, I looped my arms around his neck. Pressing my body against his, I said, “How do you always find a way to snap me out of my moods?”
His hands made their way to my ass. “I have to, otherwise you’re fuckin’ likely to do damage to me.”
“What are you saying? That I’m a grumpy bitch?”
He grinned. “I would never utter those words. I value my balls too much for that.” Brushing a kiss across my lips, he said, “I’m saying that I fuckin’ love you being pregnant. The way you go to battle with me every day keeps my dick hard as fuck. I’m thinking that once this baby is born, we should start working on the next one.”
“Jesus, Kick, settle down. I was thinking more along the lines of maybe we should reconsider the three kids you want. Pregnancy doesn’t suit me at all.”
“I’d argue with that, sweetheart. Have you seen the size of your tits lately?” His eyes dropped to my body as he ran his hands over my ass and around to my belly. “I’d say pregnancy suits the fuck out of you. These curves are something fuckin’ else.”
Desire pooled in my belly. Something he always managed to do to me, even when I felt like a waddling duck. And especially when I was in a mood. He’d swoop in after a long day with the club and listen to me moan and bitch at him before making everything all right again in my world.
Smacking his hands away, I tried to take a step back. He didn’t let me go, though. “Kick, if you don’t stop what you’re doing, we’re going to end up having sex, and then I’m going to be running late for lunch. And those rum balls might never get made.”
He bent so he could kiss my neck. Trailing his lips up to my mouth, he said, “I’m mastering the art of fucking you fast. I figure we’re gonna have to get good at it once we’ve got these three kids.”
As he spoke, he flicked the button on my shorts open and pulled the zip down. Before I could catch up to what he was doing, he had my shorts and T-shirt off. He’d slid the cups of my bra to the side and had one of my boobs in his mouth.
“Fuck,” he growled, barely lifting his mouth from my breast. “Have I mentioned how fuckin’ much I love you being pregnant?”
I threaded my fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck as I arched my back. “Only every day.” I had to admit, there definitely were some good things about being pregnant. Kick’s attention was one of them. He could hardly keep his hands off me.
He sucked my nipple while holding my breasts with both hands. He then alternated between the two of them, seemingly unable to get enough of me. “Evie, hands on my dick, baby,” he rasped after lifting his mouth from one of my boobs.
“So damn bossy,” I muttered as I unthreaded my fingers from his hair.
“You want rum balls made and the house ready for everyone, I’m gonna need to get inside you fast.” He drew his mouth away from my breast so he could glance up at me. “I’m good with dragging this out, though. Your choice.”
“Smart ass.” I quickly undid his pants and reached inside to wrap my hand around his cock, eliciting a groan from him. I stroked him a few times, until he moved to crouch in front of me.
“Jesus, woman, I’m not sure how I ever lived without you,” he said as he kissed a line down from my breasts to my stomach. His movements slowed as he reached my belly. “Hello, baby girl,” he murmured as he took hold of me and kissed all over my stomach. “Your mother’s shitty with me today, so do your dad a favour and don’t give her any hell, okay? I wanna be in her good books for at least a day.”
I stared down at him, my heart swelling with love. Kick could switch from sex fiend to daddy with the flip of a switch, and it never failed to cause me butterflies. I loved the way he already doted on our daughter.
“You should stop talking and start working that tongue of yours,” I said.
His head snapped up and he met my gaze. The heat in his gaze almost made my legs buckle. Oh, God.
Moving swiftly, he stood and turned me to face the washing machine, placing my hands on it as the front of his body molded to the back of mine. His hand wrapped around my throat and he angled my head back, pressing his face to mine. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you tonight, Evie?” His voice was a low growl, hitting me in all the right places.
A little breathless, I said, “No.”
He dipped his face so he could kiss my neck and lightly bite it. “I’m going to tie you to our bed, blindfold you and work my fuckin’ tongue in ways you can only imagine. I’m gonna work it so fuckin’ good and for so fuckin’ long that you’ll be begging me to hurry up and use my dick instead.”
Every inch of my skin came alive with need, and my breathing slowed as my mind exploded with images of him doing what he’d just promised.
His grip around my throat tightened. “But I’m not gonna get my dick out for a long time. I’m gonna drag you to that fuckin’ edge over and over, until you think you can’t take it anymore. And just when you start to lose your fuckin’ mind to the bliss—like I do every damn day just being around you—that’s when I’ll slam my dick inside you and make you scream like you’ve never screamed.”
I moaned. I wasn’t sure what was coming out of my mouth, but something was. His words had jumbled my thoughts completely, and I was barely standing on my own.
Kick reached his hand down into my panties and ran his fingers through my pussy. “Every fuckin’ time,” he said as he discovered how wet I was for him.
He slid my panties down and took hold of my hips. Positioning me how he wanted me, he then pressed his cock against my pussy. I bent a little more than I already had and waited for him to fill me.
He entered me with one hard thrust, and I cried out my pleasure.
Oh God, yes.
Keeping a firm grip on my hips, he then showed me how well he was perfecting the art of fucking me fast. He thrust in and out, driving his cock deep inside me. The angle was divine and it didn’t take me long to come. After he orgasmed, he bent so he could growl in my ear, “I’m fuckin’ addicted to this sweet pussy of yours, Mrs Hanson.”
I tilted my face to catch his lips in a kiss. He practically devoured me, and when he finally let my lips go, I said, “I’m fucking addicted to you, Mr Hanson.”
He pulled out and turned me to face him. After reaching for my clothes that were on the floor, he said, “Even when you’re pissed as fuck at me?”
I fought the smile dancing across my face. “Yes, even then.”
He passed me my clothes. “Thank Christ.
”
I was about to force my way out of the laundry so I could hurry to clean up and get dressed before getting back to my lunch preparations, but something in his tone stopped me. “Kick, I love you. I know I’ve been the world’s worst bitch during this pregnancy, and I’m sorry, but I’ll never stop loving you.”
He smoothed my hair away from my face, and his tenderness caused another rush of butterflies in my tummy. “You could be a bitch to me forever, and I wouldn’t give a shit so long as you were still by my side.”
Guilt crawled all over me, and I silently pledged to do better. To not be such a bitch. Holding his gaze, I lifted his shirt over his head. He didn’t question me; he knew what I was doing because it was what I always did when my hormones went wonky and I felt guilty. He took the shirt from me and let me do my thing.
Placing my hand to his chest, I ran my fingers over his scar. When he’d been shot a few months ago, I’d thought I was going to lose him. It had been the scariest time of my life. The waiting to know if he would survive had almost killed me.
I let his gaze go while I kissed his scar. My hands roamed his chest while I did this, and then I wrapped my arms around him and rested my head against him. His arms circled me and he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
“Baby,” he said, his voice all gruff, “I’m not going anywhere.”
I inhaled a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut as my emotions consumed me. Damn hormones. I was helpless to control my tears, so I simply let them fall. And because he understood, or maybe just because he was the best kind of man, Kick simply stood there holding me tightly, letting me know I was okay and that we would be okay.
He waited patiently for me to get myself together. When I finally lifted my head and stepped away from him, I said, “I can’t wait for our baby to be born. You are going to make the best daddy.”