A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

He lifted a shoulder, taking a step toward me. “You needed to. I got it done.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve done my research.”

“Was this before or after you killed my Superior Sisters? You’ve sure been putting yourself in my business, haven’t you?”

His eyes darkened a bit as I took a step behind the desk. “Your business is my business.”

He was wrong. Not with this dark swimming inside me. It was itself. Not me, but not him. It chafed, trying to push itself to the forefront, and I felt myself sway at the lightheaded sensation. I gritted my teeth. He did this to me. I picked another one of his blades off the desk, glancing up to see him watching me with that darkly amused look. I hated it.

I went to show him how well I could throw a knife, when he was suddenly at my back, gripping my wrist tightly until I dropped it.

The short pain pissed me off. My body went incorporeal, and I took a step back, passing right through him.

It must have felt strange to him because he sucked in a breath; I could even see goose bumps on his arms. And then I did what anyone would do—I picked up a vase sitting on the desk, and I smashed it on the side of his head.

Ceramic shattered, falling to the floor around him.

He went deathly still.

And then I realized that smashing a vase on Weston’s head, was the equivalent to poking a bear with a stick.

Before I could blink, my front was shoved against the cool stone wall, the heat of his body at my back. Frustration ran through me at the rough manhandling. But then one of his arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me—and I choked out a breath as he slammed into me. I gasped, and smacked my hand on the wall, trying to adjust to the sudden invasion. “That hurt,” I choked out.

“You smashed a vase on my head,” he growled.

“You deserved it!”

He moved inside me, and my eyes rolled back at the overwhelming pleasure. My feet weren’t touching the floor, and I wrapped my ankle around his calf, bracing my hands on the wall.

So full.

I couldn’t even think around how impossibly full he filled me, but then he pulled out and turned, dropping me on the desk. My teeth clanked together at the rough movement, but before I could protest, he shoved my back flat against the desk, keeping his palm between my breasts, and thrust hard inside me. I groaned, arching my back.

And then my thoughts diminished, my blood heating as he moved in a fast rhythm that made me see stars. I couldn’t move with his hand holding me down, and it was utterly consuming, almost overwhelming. Perfectly so.

I held the edge of the desk, his heavy gaze meeting mine before he pulled me by the back of the neck to meet his mouth. The kiss was wet and messy, warmth shooting straight to my heart as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

I moaned when his hand went between my legs, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing that spot until the stars at the back of my eyes exploded, a warm shudder running through my body from fingers to toes.

He groaned, rough and deep, right in my ear, and it sent goose bumps across my skin, before slowing, stilling.

Our heavy breaths filled the air for many moments until he broke the silence.

“Everything I’ve imagined, huh?”

I blinked, my muscles lax and my body so heavy. He’d had me against a wall, on a desk, and faster than I thought was probably considered appropriate—and that wasn’t it?

I realized my thoughts were now clear to him when a sly smile pulled at his lips. “Ah, Princess,” he said darkly, “it might take me a year to get through all that, but I’ll try to squeeze as much as I can into one night.”

Ah, shit.

I’d never understood what I had asked for, or maybe I would have given it a second thought.

She sat on my lower back, the soft pad of her finger tracing the Wolfson crest brand in between my shoulder blades.

I was only lying here, letting her hair brush my sides as she leaned over me because, Shadow or not, I thought I needed to give her a break. She was new to this, and I wasn’t exactly gentle. But hell, she asked for it with that fucking vase.