Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters 2)

Does that really matter? We’re naked together. She just sucked my dick into her mouth and made me come. I’m about to fuck her until she comes her brains out. Do I really care if she likes me? Or if I like her?

Heartless motherfucker, yes, you do actually like her. And you want her to like you, too.

I also want her. I’m drawn to her despite myself. Falling for a woman like Rose would be a huge mistake. I could put everything at risk.

Everything.

She’s the type of woman who would want to know my secrets and will dig and dig until I finally give.

And I’m not about to give. Some things are better left undiscovered. The wall I’ve erected around myself can’t be torn down. The thing with a secret is that it becomes a secret no longer when someone else knows. There are very few people who know what I do—and most of them are participating in illegal activity too, so I don’t worry about any of them ratting me out.

“Then why are we doing this?” She sounds genuinely perplexed. Confused.

She sounds exactly how I feel.

“Maybe because we can’t resist each other?” I kiss her, my lips whisper-soft, pleased at the little sigh that escapes her. She likes a gentle touch. I could be down with that. The mere idea of spreading her out on that big bed in the middle of this hotel room and touching Rose for hours tempts me beyond anything else.

Well, once I finally get inside that tight little body. After that, I’ll be game for anything.

Everything.

Chapter Nine

Rose

Caden’s right, damn him. I can’t resist him. I don’t want to resist him. He drives me crazy and I don’t like talking to him much because he challenges me. Makes me want to open up to him, yet he’s so closed off. I don’t like that. What is he hiding?

Whatever it is, his avoidance of all personal subjects isn’t stopping me from engaging in any and all sexual activities with him.

I can’t go wrong with that. The man is just as responsive to me as I am to him, and the flavor of him still lingers in my mouth. A delicious, tangy, slightly salty, all masculine taste that makes me want to get his cock into my mouth again.

Soon.

Which is crazy because I’m not one for blow jobs, especially with a man I don’t know very well. But I feel like with this situation, I need to take advantage whenever I can. That the opportunity to be with Caden could be as fleeting as the weather here in London. One day sunny, the next day rain.

One elusive encounter with Caden in a bathroom, then poof. He’s gone.

So I’ll take what I can get. Take what I want. And right now, what I want more than anything else is Caden … and I still don’t even know his last name.

“Get on the bed, Rose,” he says, his voice this deep, slightly rough command, and I love it. So much that I don’t say a word in reply. I merely do as I’m told, crawling onto the mattress on all fours, my ass in the air, right in front of him. “Yeah, stay just like that, on your hands and knees.”

Pervert. I knew he’d like that. Not that I really think he’s a pervert because if he is, then so am I. I’m the one who invited him back to my hotel room. I’m the one who sucked his cock into my mouth until he came all over my lips and chest. I have never, ever let a man do that to me before, but I let him. Practically a stranger, a man who drives me crazy, and not always in a good way.

What does that say about me? What is happening to me?

“Your ass is perfection,” he says just as he places his hand on my right butt cheek. I still myself against his gentle caress, melting at the way his fingers slide lovingly over the globe of my ass. “I can smell you, Rose. I know you want me.”

I remain silent. There’s no reason to protest or argue, because I do want him. I’m drenched with wanting him and in minutes, if not seconds, I will have him. He’ll drive that huge cock inside my body and take me with no shame. And I’ll let him. If I don’t watch it, I’ll probably be begging him.

And I’m sure he’d love that.

His fingers draw closer and closer to my pussy as he strokes my ass and I wait with held breath, dying for him to touch me there. Slide one of those long, talented fingers inside of me, testing me. The sudden image that pops in my brain, of Caden behind me on his knees, powering inside my welcoming body, his hips slapping against my ass with his every thrust, sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through me.

“Your skin is so smooth,” he observes in that deep, mesmerizing voice that has me on edge. I close my eyes and focus on the way he’s touching me. More fingers come into play as they curve around my ass, closer to my pussy, and then he’s touching me there. Teasing my folds, tracing the top of them, a barely there caress that has me exhaling softly, lifting my hips the slightest bit to direct his fingers where I really want them.

Deeper.

“You like that?” he asks, sounding amused. Sounding aroused. He knows I like it, so I don’t bother answering. At least, I don’t answer with words.

A whimper escapes me when he slides his finger inside my body, holding it there before he slowly withdraws it. Then he adds another finger, pumping them inside my pussy just as I push against his hand. My head swims with incoherent thoughts. All I can focus on is his touch, his fingers, three of them now, deep inside. He drags them back and forth, sinking farther with every thrust, until I’m working against him, riding his hand.

Riding toward the orgasm that already hovers just out of my reach.

The afternoon sunlight shines bright in the room and I can hear an occasional honk coming from the street outside, the rush of the traffic, the rumbling roar of a city bus. Normal, everyday sounds that mean life carries on around us.