Destroy (Sordid 2.5)

“I don’t . . . Oh, God,” I groaned. He sucked hard, making me shudder. How could I defend myself like this? He was doing it on purpose. “I don’t like being manipulated.”

He lifted his head, and his smug look made my stomach bottom out. “Oh, yeah? You’ve never been manipulative to get what you want?”

I would have sworn his expression said he knew he was talking to the queen of manipulation. I stared up at the skylight overhead, unable to say anything. I was sure even if I lied and said no, he’d know. He used my silence and distraction to take our passion to the next level.

He sank two fingers deep inside me and latched his mouth on my clitoris. I cried out in surprise and pleasure, and the sound echoed in the room. Fire seared across every nerve ending in my body, begging for more. I wanted to scream for release.

“Say yes, Nikita,” he murmured. “I own you no matter what answer you give me.”

It was terribly true. If I said no, it didn’t matter. He had my damaged sculpture and Maritza as a witness to what I’d done. So, I could refuse him, destroy my career for the second time, and possibly go back to prison. Or I could say yes, risk my future, and go with the unknown man who pulsed his fingers inside me at a dangerous and wonderful pace.

“Why do you do it?” I asked. I had to know. “Why do you take from other artists?”

He lifted his head and as his gaze pinned me in place, the muscle along his jaw flexed. He was clenching his teeth, and his eyes clouded over. “I don’t do that anymore.” He thrust his fingers so hard, it stole my breath, and it felt like punishment. “And I only took from two artists. Two very specific artists.”

“Who?” More importantly, “Why?”

“Phillip H. Moore and Martin Crowley.”

The desire in me was a thick sludge, making me slow. I had a hard time seeing the connection. “They . . . opened a gallery together last year.”

Luke nipped the inside of my thigh. “Yes, and they used to have a third business partner.”

Oh. It made so much sense now.

He licked where he’d bitten me as if trying to relieve the non-existent discomfort. “It was stupid revenge but, fuck them. I struck back where I could do the most damage.”

Because there was nothing more sacred to an artist than their art.

“I didn’t realize what it’d do to my name,” he added. “I wasn’t thinking.”

There was a pang in my chest. I knew all about that, didn’t I? I understood his dark motivations perfectly. I’d suffered from the same shortsightedness. “You could only focus on what they’d taken from you.”

“Yes.” He blinked back surprise. Luke sighed into me, kissing a line back to my center. “And you haven’t given me an answer yet. Collaborate with me. Your execution and my aesthetic would produce something phenomenal.”

There was no other option. The push and pull of his slow finger made me climb once more, and I gasped my answer. “All right.”

I was making a deal with the devil, I was sure. No respectable deal was made by a woman when she was on her back. His mouth was sin, which was further proof. On my agreement, his tempo took off like a rocket. I groaned and reached a hand behind me, slapping my palm flat against the wood, and turned my head into my arm, hiding from him as I neared my orgasm.

Just as I closed in, his fingers slowed and withdrew. He walked his hands beside my body, working back up until his face was level with mine, and his hips pressed against me. Luke grasped my chin and turned my face to his, dropping a kiss on my lips.

“I have what we need in my wallet. Are we doing this here?”

It was a clever way to ask consent, but it was also persuasive. It assumed I’d already said yes. He kept his hold of my chin, and his thumb brushed gently against it.

I nodded slowly.

His bright blue eyes turned warm and pleased the moment before he placed his mouth against mine and shifted so he could dig out his wallet. I lay still while he rose up on his knees, pushed his pants down, and tore open the wrapper with his teeth. His gaze never left mine as he pulled the condom out, but his hands slowed and hesitation flooded his expression.

“What?” I asked, my vocal cords tight.

“You seem nervous.”

I sighed and glanced away. “It’s been a while for me.”

“Oh.” Relief tinged his voice. “I’ll go slow. And if you decide you’re not into it, we can go back to what we were just doing.”

I couldn’t get a read on Luke at all. One minute he was manipulative, another he was understanding and sweet. “All right,” I whispered again.