All the Way (Romancing Manhattan 1)

I turn her away from me and land a swat on her perfect little ass.

“What the fuck, Finn?”

“Next time you won’t have pants on.”

“You don’t get to just spank me.”

“And you don’t get to wear yourself out to the point of limping just because you’re fucking stubborn. You’re hurting yourself for no reason, and I won’t have it. I’ll put up with a lot, but I won’t have you hurt.”

She seems to lose her fire for a moment, processing my words.

“I’m a grown woman,” she says.

“Don’t I know it,” I reply. “I can’t keep my fucking hands off you, sweetheart.”

“Well, you’re keeping them off me now,” she points out. “You’re over there with your arms crossed.”

“Because I don’t want to be gentle with you right now.”

“I’m not feeling particularly gentle myself.”

I can’t take it anymore. Her fire-filled eyes and sassy mouth are too much. I reach for her, pulling her into my lap and holding her face still while I kiss the fuck out of her. She’s gripping on to my shoulders, taking everything I’m giving her and tossing it right back to me.

“Get your pants off,” I growl, and she doesn’t miss a beat. She slips off my lap, shimmies out of the tight jeans and her panties, and then straddles me. “And if you think you’re controlling even one second of this, you have another think coming.”

“Prove it,” she says, panting hard. She’s thrown down the gauntlet and I intend not only to take it, but to destroy it.

I quickly turn us so her ass is on the seat, pull it to the edge, and spread her legs wide, diving down to devour her. She cries out and grips on to my hair, but I pull away.

“Put your hands over your head.”

She immediately does as she’s told, and I reward her by slipping two fingers inside her and pressing my tongue to her hard clit, making her squirm.

“If you move your hands, this stops.”

“Bossy.”

I grin and pull my fingers out, lick them clean, then suck her lips into my mouth and make her crazy. Her hips are bucking, her back is arching, but her hands haven’t moved.

“Good girl.”

I back away and flip her over, mindful of her leg, bend her over the seat, and with my lips pressed to her ear, I slide inside her, making us both sigh in pleasure.

But this isn’t the time for easy, or sighs of pleasure.

I want her to fucking scream.

I pound her hard, loving the sound of flesh hitting flesh. I raise a hand and slap her ass, not enough to make it pink, but hard enough to get her attention.

She glances back at me, her eyes wide and glassy and her mouth open in silent ecstasy. She reaches back for my hip, but I take her wrist in my hand and pin it to her back, using it as leverage as I thrust, harder and harder, until I feel her muscles begin to twitch and milk my pulsing dick.

“Take it,” I growl. “Take that orgasm, London.”

She shakes her head, but breathes out, “Oh yes. Fuck.” And with her face tucked in her free arm, she comes magnificently, crying out and pushing back on me, until I have no choice but to follow her over.

“We’ve reached your building, sir.”

“I forgot he was here,” she mumbles, still bent over the seat.

I push the button for the intercom. “Drive around the block twice, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That should give us time to get it together,” I say to London as I pull her back into my arms. “Are you always so infuriating?”

“I just wanted to shop,” she murmurs. “But if it leads to this, then yes. I’m infuriating every day.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon, naked, in my bed watching movies on cable. I wanted her off that leg, and naked.

I got what I wanted.

She’s been quiet, but I assume that’s because she hasn’t felt well.

“Are you sure you don’t want something for your leg?” I ask for the sixth time.

“I don’t need it,” she insists.

“You’re stubborn.”

“Hi, pot, I’m kettle.” She scowls at me. “My leg wasn’t too bad for me to shop. I would have told you if it was. What am I going to do if it throbs when I’m working, Finn? Tell the director to call it quits for the day?”

“If you can’t work, it’s okay,” I reply without thinking. “I’ll take care of you.”

She sits and stares at me for a full five seconds, and then buries her face in a pillow and screams.

“I guess that’s a no?”

“Oh my God, stop talking.” She stands and stomps into the bathroom. She’s in there for a long time, and just when I’m about to go in after her, she opens the door and leans on the doorjamb.

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”