No Fair Lady

Yes, even before I mount her.

I know I’m going to do something stupid and downright suicidal for this woman.

With our clothing left in shreds on the floor, we grapple with each other across the huge bed.

To even compare Fuchsia Delaney to any woman I’ve ever brought back here isn’t in the same universe. This is more like bringing a tornado of endless curves and hot, husky breath home to destroy my balls.

And damn if they won’t die happy.

Her skin feels like silk pulled over steel.

She knows just how to move to make her body caress every inch of me with liquid-lithe curves and the sweet graze of her nipples against my chest.

Her legs splay wide, effortlessly, tangling with mine, her foot stroking down the back of my calf as she opens herself to me, rubbing steaming wet folds against my full length.

Oh, hell.

This little wildcat is fucking seducing me stupid, and it’s working.

Gasping, I dig my hands into the mattress.

Just to keep from digging them into her too hard, and I roll my hips roughly into hers until we’re one step short of fucking. I’m gonna make her work for this.

I give back as good as I get, teasing the flare of my length against her wetness, nudging against her clit, drawing out short sharp gasps.

Her spine arcs in reactive jerks, and her skin flushes pinker than her trusty candy—or her odd new name.

“Planning to tease me forever?” she breathes huskily, her eyes practically burning into me.

“Not forever,” I say. “Just enough to make you hate me a little.”

She smirks, pursing her lips. “What makes you think I don’t already hate you?”

If I say what I’m really thinking, she’ll throw me off her.

That she doesn’t hate me.

She recognizes a kindred spirit or else she wouldn’t be here, giving in to this psycho wildfire sex-thing that ignited the second our eyes locked.

I can already tell Agent Brin would rather die than admit vulnerability.

So instead I growl, “So hate me, then.”

Without another word, I lean down to steal and silence that insolent mouth.

She doesn’t surrender.

She fights me with teeth and tongue, kissing me like we’re at war, punishing me for every crime I commit. Can a guy fall in love from feeling a woman’s teeth too many times?

Yesterday, I would’ve just laughed.

Today, I’m not sure what the fuck I know anymore.

I make her gasp with my fingertips, grazing and pulling against her nipple, make her moan and tighten her thighs against me as I replace those long, slow, teasing strokes of my cock with long, slow, teasing fingers, delicately parting her soft pussy lips to coat my fingertips in her slickness.

Fuck, she spills so much—I goddamn love that.

A woman who leaves my hands, body, dick, and bed all completely soaked with her presence.

A woman who cries out as freely as Agent Brin does, almost snarling it like a cat in heat as I plunge my fingers inside her.

A woman whose heat wraps around me and grips me so tight it hurts.

I add my tongue, sucking her nub between my teeth just like she plays with that blasted candy. I’m as relentless as her hitched screams, lashing her bud again and again, forcing her to ride my face off.

Fucking glorious.

I make her head toss back and forth in borderline protest as my fingers thrust again and again until she’s practically pooling in my palm and raking lines of fire down my back.

“Asshole!” she hisses, digging her nails in deeper, and my back arches, my hips jerking as the pain just sends lightning jolting to my cock. “Why…why are you making me wait?”

“Because you’re impatient,” I tease, and slip in another finger just so she makes that moany-whine again in the back of her throat, gritting her teeth.

But if she’s impatient, she’s in good company.

So am I.

And I can’t fucking wait anymore.

I have just enough presence of mind to remember the condoms in my nightstand drawer. Barely.

This time I’m rushing, ready to get past this part, slipping it on and then before that vixen can attack me again, tumbling her back and hooking a hand under her knee to lift her up against me with her body open, her back arched, her dilated eyes looking up at me in challenge and acceptance.

And that little smirk still painted on her lips.

“Go ahead, Oliver,” she taunts softly, deliberately dropping my last name, and leans up to kiss my mouth with that pink ball of candy. I don’t know why, but it’s so suggestive I almost shoot my wad then and there. “Make me scream.”

Fuck.

But the sound she makes as I slide into her…

It’s less a scream and more the mating cry of a wild animal. Breathless and intense and so rich with relief it’s practically dripping.

And she makes it again as I thrust slowly, letting myself get used to the heat of her body, how shockingly tight she is, the way she closes so hot around me and lifts her hips to meet me.