“Jesus.”
“But I won’t swallow you down unless you look me in the eye the whole time. Unless you say my name. Unless you come where I can taste it.”
Rearing back, he said, “You’re an evil woman.”
Which left her laughing. Laughing as she pushed him to sit. Laughing as he fought his belt and zipper. As he shimmed out of his jeans and that incredible cock sprang free. Smirk in full effect, she lowered between his thighs and met the hungriest, most vulnerable of male gazes with a wink.
And then she made him suffer.
It might have been six years, but committed penetration virgins knew tricks most men could not imagine.
Drawing out his agony, swallowing around his girth, fondling parts of him that would send most men screaming from the sensation, she brought him to a climax that had him doing far more than calling her name.
Through it all, he held her eyes—exposed, in love, manipulative, evil, good, lonely, unrelenting man that he was.
Eugenia drank him down like wine.
When air became a necessity, she pulled off his cock with a loud pop to her lips and smiled.
“That was mean.”
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she asked, “Does Chloe do it better?”
Narrowed eyes and an agitated groan were his answer. “Every man you’ve done that too… they are very lucky they are not on my ship.”
Which set her back to laughing. “It’s funny when you get jealous.”
As the topic of jealousy seemed to be the thorn that always irked him, the captain frowned. “Tell me you love me.”
Arching a brow, she challenged, “Do the tongue thing.”
“No.” There was her playful lover. The one who needed so much she might never fill the void.
He called it making love, but the things he did to her that night—everywhere but the bed—all of it was what Eugenia could only describe as fucking.
Primal. Passionate. Filthy.
Against the wall in the corner. Draped over the couch, her legs hooked on his arms. The floor as she tried to crawl to her pillow. In no part of his room did he not violate her.
In no encounter did she not give what she got.
Were it a game, were there a scoreboard… he cried out her name three times more than she cried out his.
She won.
And took her victory to a soft bed, held by a hard man, smiling as she dreamed of pizza and the medical wonders that once upon a time could be found on the internet.
Chapter Nineteen
Fingers pumping between tingling labia already smeared in his spend, the captain’s hooded gaze drank her in.
A hazel focus rested between her spread legs, upon her heaving breasts. At a woman who bit at her lip—but not in the teasing way she so loved to egg him on with. In the desperate way of a virgin out of her depth.
“Come one more time on my fingers and I’ll stop. If you don’t, I’ll make love to you again.” With a cruel smirk, he added, “From behind.”
Which she had come to learn did not mean his standard ass-in-the-air Level 15 fuck. It meant he’d keep his hand on her clit, press her belly to the mattress, straddle her clenched thighs, and sexually torture her until she saw stars.
Legs shaking and impossibly turned on, she snarled, “For the love of God, you pervert. Put that thing away! You’ve already fucked me twice this morning.”