Perfect Rage (Unyielding 3)

His mouth pursed and he scowled. “You know the scenario here, right?”

I did. I wasn’t okay with it, but I accepted it. My hands eased back to his pants and his hands followed, but this time he didn’t stop me as I undid his belt. I pushed the button through the slit in his pants. “Yeah, I do. You have protection?”

I figured he did. I wasn’t stupid. Connor was a player and a player without condoms was no longer a player but a bystander. And I suspected Connor would never be a bystander in any part of his life. On duty or not I was pretty sure he kept condoms on him.

“Bag,” he said.

But he didn’t move as he hovered over me, his eyes intense and heated. There was something else, too, that I couldn’t decipher. Almost as if he were the one hesitating and unsure about doing this.

I put my hands on his chest and shoved. “I suggest you hurry up and get one.”

Then that hesitation vanished as he grinned with a low chuckle. I melted. That sound. That look. It was like it erased all the bad I’d seen growing up and replaced it with a cocoon of protective warmth.

“You have a bossy side. Interesting,” he said, popping to his feet. His belt dangled, the clasp bouncing off his rock-hard thigh when he stood. Then he bent, picked up my camera, unsnapped the lens cover and put it to his eye.

“What are you doing?”

“Capturing you,” he said and then I heard the shutter go.

I laughed and he clicked again. “Stop.” I held out my palm and tilted my head to the side. “I’m the photographer so I never have to be the one in front of the camera.”

He lowered the camera and placed it back on the blanket. “I want one of those.”

“Huh?”

“Send me one of those.” I didn’t say anything. “I’ll give you my email.”

It was just an email, but I inwardly smiled because I liked him giving me that. I was betting he didn’t give it out freely.

Temporary, Alina.

He walked over to his duffel, shuffled around and was back. My insides whirled as he stood standing over me, a little gold package between his fingers. He stared at me with lust blazing and my toes curled with anticipation.

I sat up, ripped off my shirt and tossed it aside. Then I undid my pants and shimmied them down my legs and pulled them off my feet.

When I looked up at him, he hadn’t moved. But his eyes had and they trailed a smoldering path down my body, stopping on my panties.

I had a thing for panties. Some girls collected shoes. I collected panties. I liked how they made me feel, even though I was the only one who knew I was wearing them. Besides, money was always tight, and shoes were a hell of a lot more expensive than nice panties.

I had all kinds, colors and styles, but traveling meant I only had enough room for my favorites and today I was wearing a cobalt blue thong with thin black lace straps. I had what some might call childbearing hips and what I referred to as a protective fall layer. If I fell, it would hurt a hell of a lot more without that layer, so I considered it a necessity.

“Jesus.” He dropped to his knees between my legs. His fingers traced from my right hip along the edge of my panties to the center where he paused before he stroked downward with a light brush of his fingers.

I sucked in air, arching, eyes closing. He applied pressure and I moaned as my sex clenched with need. I bent my knees, thighs opening to him and he took full advantage, his finger dipping into my panties.

“So fuckin’ wet.”

His other hand slid up my abdomen, over my ribs to my breasts where he cupped me, thumb grazing my nipple, back and forth. But he didn’t linger as his hand moved back down again. Then he dragged my panties down and off.

He held them up. “Love these. But I have to taste you, baby.” He shifted to his stomach, his mouth so close to my sex that his heated breath wafted across my clit.

“Your smell is so damn addictive, Alina. A drug.”

He lowered his head and with a slow agonizing drag of his tongue, he licked me.

Then he did things to me I never dreamed a man could do with his tongue. Skilled was an understatement. This man knew exactly what he was doing.

And when his groans vibrated against me, the sensation was so erotic that it made me groan, too.

“Connor.” My fingers dug into his scalp, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care because he continued tasting me, his tongue flicking over my clit back and forth until I lifted my hips, thighs trembling. “Oh. God. Connor.”