Temp

“I’m like them. I’m just…just like my parents. I’m corrupt. I was going to be smarter and safer, but here I am at thirty-one with the same enemies, the same house of cards. I’m angry with myself more than anyone else. For being a pattern. Following the same path and expecting a different outcome. Letting my need for revenge rule me. Is that what you want me to admit?”

“No. Yes.” Are those tears in her eyes? “Thank you for being honest.”

“I don’t want to be. Why can’t I keep my fucking head on straight around you?” With my lips pulled back in a snarl, I back her across the room to the big leather easy chair. “You’re some kind of drug. You’re in my system and you won’t come out.”

My dick is confused. Hard, ready. Sensitive. I’ve never had an erection while being this vulnerable, this exposed, before. It’s the kind of combination that makes a man want to kneel and beg. And she has done this to me twice in twenty-four hours. I need to fuck. I need human contact—from this girl. Only her. I want to hide myself in her and show her everything at the same time. I’m conflicted and horny and shocked at what I just revealed to her. To myself. All of this self-reflection is her fault. I was fine before this villain and savior came along.

No, you weren’t.

You aren’t.

There is redemption inside of her. For me. I just need to reach it. Consume her.

When the backs of her legs touch the easy chair, I reach down and snag her knees, pulling, so she lands on her back on the big cushion, gasping, looking up at me with her innocent golden eyes, her rain-soaked dress molding to her mindfuck of a body.

“From some angles you look like a sweet little virgin.” I remove my overcoat and toss it onto the closest worktable, quickly untwisting my cufflinks. One. Two. Shoving them into my pocket. “From others, you look like a woman who has experience driving men to drink. Those high, martini-glass tits. An ass that begs to be smacked. We’ll find out which one you are right now, Sarah. Won’t we?” I fall to my knees in front of her, taking her ankles and settling them on my shoulders. “I’m here to fuck you. I won’t have a reasonable thought in my head until I’ve lathered up this pussy in sweat and spit and you’re cursing my name for coming inside you without a rubber.”

She pushes up onto her hands, attempting to leave. Shaken. Wheezing. “Stop—”

But I surge up over her, bending her knees all the way back to her shoulders, pinning her to the easy chair with my mouth, my bared teeth against her parted lips. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want it.”

Our hot, panting breaths mingle between us.

When she blinks rapidly, her hand curling in the front of my dress shirt, I’m caught off guard by a wave of regret. Of…affection. For her. It leads me to speak without thinking. “I’m a bastard. I don’t know how to be any other way. I don’t have an ounce of sweetness inside of me. I’m sorry if that’s what you need. I’ll make up for it in other ways.” A swallow gets stuck in my throat. “Let me make up for it in other ways.”

Her grip on my shirt loosens in degrees, as does some of the fight in her body.

When she nods, that permission is…Jesus, it’s better than conquering. Or winning a fight. It’s the most intoxicating victory I’ve ever experienced. “Yes?” I ask her, just to be sure.

“Yes,” she whispers, a line marring her brow slightly. As if she’s perplexed by her own admission. “I want you. Wounds and all.”

With those incredible words ringing in my head, I fall on her like a starving beggar. Her knees are still slung over my shoulders and I’m kissing her, stroking my thumbs up the backs of her thighs, my heart stuttering when she whimpers my name as our mouths slant, collide, my tongue memorizing her texture. Every ripple and change of pace is ours. We created it.

I’m starving for her pussy.

Starving.

There’s a sawing sound inside of my chest as I drop back down onto my knees and yank at her panties, needing them off. Right the hell now. Want that pussy. Want to eat it raw. Fuck. When her underwear is nothing but a ball of material in my hand, I groan at the sight of her sex. Young and dewy and waxed clean as a goddamn whistle. “You shouldn’t be allowed out of the house with this thing.” I kiss my way up her inner thighs, my dick on the verge of spraying come against the front of my trousers. “Swear to Christ, I could nut just looking at it. God, I can’t stop thinking about how it shook and wet itself yesterday. All that proof that you liked Daddy’s tongue so much, just dripping off you. Need to lick it. Need a lick.”