Rage (Benson Security 3)

Isobel tore her eyes away from the black ink. “Where are the other ones?”

He stared at her, and she felt herself falling into the depths of his eyes. Slowly, his eyes not leaving hers, Callum continued to lift his shirt. There was a Celtic knot emblazoned on his pec, done in the same black ink as the tattoo on his stomach.

“Take off your shirt, Callum.” Isobel was the one giving orders for a change.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Callum said, but he sounded needy, uncertain.

“What isn’t?” She dropped the wet cloth and leaned in to swirl her tongue around the curves of the Celtic knot.

He cursed and ripped off the shirt. Isobel’s hands were on him before the shirt hit the floor. All that hot, smooth skin covering firm muscle—he was a work of art. She traced the ridges and valleys of his stomach.

“I want to memorise this with my tongue,” she said.

Callum groaned as his fingers worked into her hair and tightened. “I need to tell you something.”

“Tell me later.” She twirled her tongue around a hard nipple and then bit down hard.

“It’s important.”

“Later.” Nothing was more important that tasting this gorgeous man.

He cursed, and the grip in her hair tightened, pulling her away from his chest and angling her face up to his. His lips met hers with a furious clash. All of his strength, all his ability was poured into the kiss. She felt him reach behind her and heard the click of the lock. After that, all that registered was Callum. His tongue plundered her mouth, spearing in and out, making her thighs press together. She pressed her fingernails into his shoulders, hard enough to leave marks. She needed him. She ached for him. She wanted to taste him, inhale him into her soul. She wanted to feel his weight over her and feel his hard length inside her. She wanted all of it.

His stubble rasped at her chin as he deepened the kiss. He was feeding on her, their gasps and moans melding into a symphony of unadulterated desire. She pressed her palm flat in the middle of his chest, feeling the soft hairs against her smooth skin. She wanted to feel them rub against her breasts. She wanted to feel his skin against every inch of her skin.

Desperate, she pressed her hand down his body and over the bulge in the front of his jeans. She moaned into his mouth as the heel of her hand rubbed at him, feeling the firmness press back. She’d imagined going slower this time. Learning his body. Luxuriating in all that muscle and hot, hot skin. But that would have to wait. She needed him now. Desperately needed him.

Frantically, she popped the button of his jeans and unzipped him. She tugged at the waistband of his underpants, freeing the smooth crown of his cock. Callum ripped his lips from hers and let out a stream of curses.

“Slow down,” he ordered as he tightened his grip in her hair.

That wasn’t going to happen. Isobel wrapped her hand around his length and stroked, luxuriating in the size of him. She wanted to touch him like this for hours. She wanted to wrap her lips around him and suck and lick until he begged for mercy. But most of all, she wanted him inside her. She was empty, desperately empty, and only Callum could fill her.

Her hand still holding him, she licked and kissed and bit at his chest, tasting the salt and musk of him on her tongue. She walked forward, making him back up towards the bed. She needed him now. She was past waiting. The need that had been building since she’d kissed him in her living room hours earlier had reached explosive proportions, and there was only one thing that could give her relief.

The back of Callum’s knees hit the bed and his balance teetered. Isobel gave him a hard shove and watched him fly back onto the bed. He was perfection. Broad shoulders, tattoos, washboard abs and a smattering of hair. And underneath it all, poking out of his jeans, was her prize.

Isobel didn’t wait a second. She ripped off her jeans and underwear and climbed on top of him. Her mouth slammed onto his as she felt the head of his cock slide through the swollen and wet lips of her sex. She clenched and groaned at the stark empty feeling inside her. She couldn’t wait a second more. Wrapping her fist around him, she positioned him where she needed him to be and sank onto him.

Callum ripped his mouth from hers. “Condom.”

“In a second.” He felt too good. Too, too good.

She felt Callum root around in his pocket.

“Up,” he ordered as he brought the square packet to his teeth and ripped.

“Just a little longer.” She ground down on him.

He wrapped his hand in her hair and tugged her down to look in his eyes. The look on his face was a mixture of amusement, need and something else. Something soft. Something she was scared to name.

“Woman, focus. You don’t want to get pregnant.”

For a secon

d, she was lost in his eyes, the feel of him inside her overwhelming. In that moment, nothing else mattered other than being with Callum. Than feeling Callum. Than knowing him.

“Crazy woman,” he muttered, then tugged her face down and slammed his mouth on hers. One taste. One touch. She was lost. She melted into him, boneless and at his mercy.