Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline 1)

His eyes were wild, his lips hovering over hers. He narrowed his eyes. “I thought they’d be more polite with a woman in the shop.” He was staring down at her, his eyes hard, every muscle in his body flexed. Even the tendons in his neck were tense, like he was a predator and she was a tasty gazelle that might bound away at any second. Adrenaline sang through her.

She grabbed his hard-on through his jeans. His eyes closed for the briefest moment, and he shuddered. He was always more aggressive with her when he was horny. She loved it.

“Let me make you feel better.” She glanced up and down the hall then went to her knees, loving the momentary incredulity on his face, which melted away into a reflection of her own half-crazed desire. Damn, it was hot to have a man want her so bad.

She unzipped his jeans, releasing his cock from the denim. The possibility of getting caught ramped up her adrenaline even more. Impatiently, she took the hard length of him as deep down her throat as she could manage. He shuddered and grunted at her enthusiastic assault, bracing his forearms against the wall above her, caging her. Control only stayed hers briefly, and moments later he was face fucking her and making her gag on his cock.

“What a good girl,” came a deep, thickly accented voice

.

Fox made a sound of disgust. He pulled his cock from her mouth and tucked himself back in then rebuttoned his jeans. He yanked her to her feet in time for her to see Geir’s broad back disappearing down the hall.

Damn.

Well, he must have seen all sorts of things in these halls. Besides, it wasn’t her dick that had been out on display. She snickered.

Fox gave her a dirty look then led her into their hotel room and shut the door behind them. The emphatic way he threw the deadbolt made her stomach flutter. He grabbed her shoulders, careful not to touch her tattoo, and pulled her close.

“Did you like getting caught?” His voice was rough. He sounded like she felt.

She hid her smile. “Why? Do you like that kind of thing?”

“No,” he grumbled. “It just made me want to punch Geir in the face. I didn’t notice him until he spoke, but I think he was watching for a while. I guess we get what we deserve for not walking that extra few feet to our hotel room. The guys don’t live by the same rules we do.”

“That’s rich, coming from a car thief.”

He stared down at her possessively. “I’m never taking you to hang out in their dungeon.”

“Fine by me.”

The hotel room he’d led her into, when she bothered to look at it, was far larger than she would have imagined. Rather than being a standard, small bedroom with attached bath, it was the size of several normal hotel rooms, and boasted a large separate living area. The place had a rich antique feel that leaned toward gothic, with dark brocades and a lot of sturdy wrought iron. Beauty with a side of torture chamber. She couldn’t imagine being able to afford a room like this.

For some reason, even though she knew Fox had money, she always forgot. Maybe it was because he treated money like it meant nothing to him. For Fox, the thrill of living seemed to mean more than accumulating things did. It put them on even footing. They understood each other.

In a matter of a few breaths, he’d stripped her out of her T-shirt and jeans. The bra was already in her bag, since the strap would have rubbed her tattoo. She couldn’t believe he’d paid to get her the tattoo she’d wanted. Every time it crossed her mind, she grinned at him. She wished she’d have been bold enough to get it on her arm so she could look at it all the time, but there was time for that in the future. Easing her parents into the tattoo world seemed kinder.

When he’d slipped her panties down her legs, he moved the leather ottoman into the middle of the room. “Kneel here.”

“Bossy much?”

“You like me bossy.” He swatted her ass.

“Maybe,” she said coyly, eyeing the ottoman like she had to consider whether to comply.

“Then do what you’re told and maybe I’ll let you come.”

The man was insufferable and she loved every minute of it. Apparently he really got off on orgasm control. It seemed to be a running theme. Not that she was complaining. Being made to wait, to suffer, seemed annoying at first but she couldn’t deny it made orgasms that much more mind-blowing.

The feel of his gaze on her was an invasive caress. As she crawled onto the ottoman, she gave him a good look at everything she owned.

“Fuuuck,” she heard him whisper to himself. “Evil, evil woman.”

Obediently, she knelt, knees spread, shoulders back, breasts outthrust. The air quivered with the buildup of sexual tension.

He walked slowly around her, assessing her, trailing a gentle finger over her skin here and there so that she never knew when a touch was coming. Her nipples ached, and when the pad of his finger trailed over their peaks, she shuddered, spreading her knees wider.

When he stopped behind her, he murmured, “Can I take a picture of you from behind like this?”