Consent (The Loan Shark Duet 2)

“Nothing?” I start to unbutton my coat. “It’s been a long time. Ten months, to be exact.”

A vein pulses in his throat as he follows my actions. “You don’t want to do that, not with a man like me.”

“You wanted to find me. Didn’t you come looking for me at the market?”

His eyes snap back to mine. “What do you mean?”

“Divine intervention. It’s as if we were destined to meet.”

“You don’t believe that, beautiful.”

“My husband used to call me beautiful.”

He blanches a little. “Look, I––”

When my coat falls open, so does his mouth. The words he was going to say drop off the tip of his tongue and dissolve in the thick air between us. Heat burns hot in his eyes as they settle on my attire––sinful pink and black underwear with thigh high, lace-trimmed stockings and killer heels. The bra makes my breasts spill over the cups, and my nipples are visible through the sheer lace. His hands clench at his sides as he looks me up and down. His chest moves rapidly. His nostrils flare. If his cock could get any harder, it just did. The outline is clearly visible under the fabric of his trousers. He swallows and meets my eyes. His are smoldering with desire. He wants me. Crap, if I’m wrong, I’m going to have sex with a stranger in his kitchen.

Please, don’t let me be wrong.

When his hands reach for me, I almost falter, but I have to know, and there’s only one, sure way to discover the truth. One thing a man like Gabriel can’t alter or fake is the way he fucks my body. Strengthening my resolve, I lift my chin and push out my breasts.

His expression twists with raw agony. Grabbing my arms, he turns me toward the door. “Leave. Now.”

I lean back, cushioning his groin with my ass. He offers no resistance when I rub against him. The dip of his knees and the ragged groan that tears from his chest as I drag my ass over his hard-on tells me I won. His reaction makes me confident enough to walk to the island counter and hop onto it. I don’t have to say a word. All I have to do is spread my legs.

He charges like a lion. There’s a growl on his lips when he twists my hair around his fingers and pulls to the side, exposing my neck. Like a predator, he locks his teeth on the soft spot where my neck and shoulder meet. He doesn’t bite down, just holds me in place as he sucks on my skin, marking me. When he lets go, I’m sporting a love bite. Satisfaction washes into his expression when he stares at the mark. Gently, he drags his tongue over it, moaning as he tastes my skin. He runs his nose up the length of my neck to my jaw, inhaling deeply.

Using my hair to keep me in place, he kisses and nips his way down from my ear to my shoulder. Each kiss turns more frantic than the next. He wedges between my legs and lets go of my hair to catch my face. Holding my cheeks between his palms, he plunders my mouth with the pent-up fever of a man who’s been denied for too long. Our tongues tangle as he explores the depth of my mouth and the shape of my lips. He eats me as if I’m his last meal.

I can count the times Gabriel kissed me without total control on one hand. His seductions were well thought out and executed. This man is kissing me without an ounce of constraint, like Gabriel kissed me when I told him I didn’t want Michael. He’s kissing me like Gabriel did the day he married me against my will. I moan into his mouth, my body preparing itself for his possession by growing warm and slick.

He tears his mouth from mine and jerks his shirt from his pants. “Tell me how badly you want this.”

My gaze drops to his pants. “I want to taste you.”

His fingers reach for the buttons of his shirt. One by one, he pops them with shaky hands. “You can have my cock anywhere you want it.”

When the edges of the shirt fall open, he pushes our upper bodies together, skin against skin. It feels familiar. It feels right. He flips down the cups of my bra, letting the curves spill over, and takes a nipple in his mouth. His tongue is heaven and hell. He sucks on the tip, sending a spasm straight to my clit, and then he follows it up with a white-hot arrow of pain when he bites down. A few repetitions and my core is a melted puddle of arousal. He doesn’t let up until he’s given the other breast the same treatment. I’m panting and boneless, unable to support my weight when he lifts his broad hand from the small of my back. With his fingers curled around my neck, he pushes me down on the counter. The touch is dominant and possessive, just like I remember.