“Not yet.” Knox bit her earlobe before sucking on it. “Put your hands on the glass.”
She stilled at the dominance and authority that rung in his voice. She knew exactly what that tone meant. Her body knew what it meant, began to melt and ready itself for him. Harper’s knees buckled as an ice-cold finger slid through her folds right as Knox snaked his hand beneath her shirt to cup one breast. “Shit. Tell me no one can see me.”
“No one can see you…unless I flick that switch on the wall over there.”
“Don’t.”
“Why? Don’t you want them to see me taking you? Don’t you want them to know you’re mine, that every inch of you belongs to me?” He whipped off her t-shirt and bra. “Shoes.”
She kicked them off while he quickly unbuttoned her fly and shoved down her jeans. Her panties went with a snap just as two icy fingers drove into her. The first cold thrust was always a shock, but the heat emanating from the fingers made her pussy blaze and spasm.
At his urging, she stepped out of her jeans. That was when his psychic fingers began pumping into her, making her body melt against him. Anticipation sent a tremor down her spine as she heard his zip slowly lowering. The bastard was dragging it out on purpose. The psychic fingers dissolved, leaving behind a flaming ache that was all too familiar.
“Hands on the glass, Harper. That’s my good girl.” Knox grabbed her hips, angled them just right, and slammed home. Her hot, slick pussy squeezed his cock almost to the point of pain. Too. Fucking. Good. Clutching the breast his demon had branded, Knox powered into her. “This is what I need.”
Harper’s back arched like a bow as he pounded into her, his fingers digging so hard into her breast and hip that she knew she’d have bruises. She caught his reflection in the glass. Eyes hooded, mouth set in a harsh line, there was savage need stamped into his features.
Hand bunched in her hair, Knox yanked her head back so he could suckle and bite her neck. Her taste and scent assaulted his senses, making his cock swell even further. Nothing felt better than her tight muscles greedily clamping around him, as if trying to hold him deep in her body. He growled low in her ear. “Do you know how hot it is to see the reflection of the brand on your pussy?” It stroked the possessive streak in him that came violently alive around Harper. “Every time you see it, do you remember how it felt when my demon put it there? Do you remember that it means I own you?”
She gasped as his fist tugged her hair hard, bringing her face to his. He didn’t kiss her mouth. He devastated it. Biting on it, licking at it, and softly sucking on her tongue. The kiss repeatedly alternated between hard and rough to teasing and sensual. She felt off balance, couldn’t think. She only knew she needed to come so bad it hurt.
Feeling her pussy begin to tighten around him, Knox knew her orgasm was close. “You know you can’t come until I tell you, baby.”
“I can’t help it,” she hissed.
“Yes, you can. You will.” Releasing her hair, he collared her throat as he hammered into her at a feverish pace that dared her to defy him. She didn’t, just like he knew she wouldn’t. “Beg me to let you come.”
Motherfucking asshole. Knowing better than to curse him out loud and risk him stopping – he’d done it a few times before – she begrudgingly ground out, “Please.”
“Good girl.” He slid his other hand down to tug on her clit. “Come, Harper.” A scream tore from her throat as her pussy quaked and squeezed his cock. Biting out a harsh curse, he exploded in her, his hand tightening around her throat. Forcing himself to loosen the hold, he stroked her neck as she slowly came down from her high.
“How can you still be hard?”
Knox ever so slowly withdrew, causing her pussy to close around his cock and try to suck him back in. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m not done yet.” He drove deep with a grunt. “This time, scream my name for me.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
After a long, boring conference call, Knox left his office and sought out Harper. He found her in the living area, legs crossed yoga-style on the sofa…and doing something he never would have expected. She had a box at her side that contained a collection of gems, crystals, sequins, rhinestones, beads, lace, sash, and other appliques. And she was sowing and gluing some on her collection of jeans. Designer jeans.
“Hey.” She only spared him the briefest glance, preoccupied with sporadically attaching tiny, silver skeleton heads to a pair of black jeans.
Most of the other pairs that were folded on the sofa had already been ‘decorated.’ She’d even slashed at some with a razor, sown white flowery lace on the back pockets of others, and…“What happened to them?” One particular pair of blue jeans were now a whitish blue from mid-calf downwards.
“Oh, I dipped them in bleach,” she said, her tone absent.
“You dipped them in bleach? I buy designer clothes, and you—”
She did look up then. “I told you, they’re from thrift shops.”
He couldn’t stifle a smile. “Thrift shops. Right.” He poured himself a gin and tonic, and then settled beside her, admiring her steady hand. “Do you do this a lot?”
“I like personalizing things. When I lived with Lucian, I traveled pretty light. We couldn’t always afford to buy new clothes, so I’d revamp the ones I had.” She gave him an impish smile. “Whenever he pissed me off, I’d glue pink sequins to his pants.”