Dirty Deal (Perfectly Matched 2)

Time to stall until she could think straight.

“Looking good.” She nodded. “Now give us a little spin.”

“Excuse me?” He crossed his trunk-like arms over his chest. Good God, the man was built like Thor. He made it hard to think about anything but him.

“You heard me. Shake what your momma gave you.” Thank God her mouth operated so frequently without her mind’s input.

He’d apparently had enough of her teasing because he crossed the room toward her, closing the distance with remarkable speed.

“Listen—” she started, her body trembling with a heady mix of adrenaline, anticipation, and abject terror.

“Nope. Time’s up.” He picked her up like a rag doll, hauling her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. She squealed as he carried her across the room and set her down on something cold and hard. The kitchen counter.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, though her protest sounded weak even to her.

“Showing you my move. Isn’t that what you wanted?” His voice was a low rumble in his chest.

Did she want that? She didn’t even know anymore. With every touch, he was weaving a spell around her. One that felt unfamiliar, wonderful, and terrifying all at once. If there was something more intense than this that he hadn’t shown her…

She shoved the thought away, unwilling to examine it any further because it didn’t matter. Walking away right now was impossible.

Without waiting for her reply, he slipped his hands around her waist and trailed them downward, tugging the fabric away as he went, panties and all, until she was utterly exposed to him. She hadn’t even lifted her butt from the counter. Her whole body slid toward him until her ass was at the very edge, perfectly aligning her soft center with his hard cock.

“That’s the move? Pulling a girl’s pants off?” she breathed, trying to sound unimpressed.

“When I do the move, you won’t have to ask. Now be quiet and let me work here, woman,” he growled. Her pants were at her ankles now and he lifted them toward his shoulders, pulling one leg free and then the other. It was sensual, the ritual of it, the reverent way he circled her ankle in his fingers, and she found herself mesmerized by the ceremony.

He held her ankles in each of his hands now and lifted one to his lips, brushing his tongue along the inside of her ankle, teasing at her calf. A sizzle snaked through her entire body.

“D-don’t boss me. I’m not one of your patients, Doc.” She tried to say the words defiantly, but instead they came out like a breathy plea.

“That’s good, because if you were, what I’m about to do to you would be illegal.” His wolfish smile held more promise than humor as he placed each of her ankles delicately on his shoulders.

“Lean back on your elbows,” he murmured. The last of the fight drained out of her as she obeyed his command and waited breathlessly for his next move. He stared down at her, molten gaze lingering on her aching breasts before drifting lower.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, I can hardly stand it.”

Then he dropped to a squat and closed his mouth over her clit. The sensation was so sublime, she couldn’t make a sound. She arched her back and closed her eyes to savor the sensation of his clever tongue on her. It was like her flesh was infused with light, and every nerve ending was on high alert. She went from wet and needy to soaked and ready to scream in thirty seconds flat.

“Please, Bryan…I need…”

She broke off, gasping as his tongue rubbed her in a brutal rhythm that made her head spin. She opened her eyes to watch his dark head move between her thighs, and that only made the pressure there build to a fever pitch. He tugged her closer, palming her hips before sliding one hand to play in her slick folds. He groaned against her clit, the sound vibrating his lips against her in a way that made her muscles tense. Then, he eased two fingers into her needy, waiting heat. She let out a muffled sob that mixed with the sound of the breath sawing in and out of his lungs as he tore his mouth from her.

“Repeat after me”—he flexed his fingers deep, the pads of them rubbing her G-spot with unerring accuracy—“I want you.”

“I want you,” she whimpered, helpless to deny him, willing to say anything if he would just—

“To slide that cock deep inside me until I scream,” he urged.

She groaned and shook her head. He slid his fingers out before plunging deep again, in a slow, relentless slide.

“Tell me, Serena. Say the words. I want you to fuck me until I come. Tell me you want it, and it’s yours.”

She shook and sobbed and tried to press harder onto his fingers. She was close, so close, she could touch it. Her breathing was labored, her face feverish with wild heat.

“What is there to be afraid of?” he urged in a low voice. “I’m not a half-measure kind of guy. If we’re going to have tonight, let’s do it, no holds barred. Now tell me what you want.”

“I c-can’t,” she gasped, desperate to end the torture, but some deeper part of her knew if she didn’t draw the line she was going to drown in him.

“You can.” He straightened and stepped back, letting his fingers slip away, and she cried out at the loss. Her ankles slid from around his neck to his waist. Never taking his eyes from her, he tugged his cock free of his boxers and palmed it in one hand. “I’ll tell you what I want. That sweet pink pussy.” He groaned as stroked his cock up and down, pumping his fist. “On my tongue, on my cock, in my face. I could come right now just looking at you like this, and that’s the truth. Now your turn.”

She could hardly form a coherent though as he stepped closer to rub the head of his cock against her, tracing her slick folds with that thick tip until she arched into him, desperate for it. He was the worst kind of tease, pressing himself against her clit and circling, dipping down and running himself along her core, making her think that he was about to fill her, and then making his way back to her clit again.

The blood pooled between her hips, and she trembled with need. She knew exactly how he felt because she wanted him everywhere, all at once. To take him deep into her mouth. To have him stroke himself until he came, spurting hot and fast on her belly. But right now…most of all…

“I want you to fuck me until I scream,” she begged.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. He pulled away, and she could hear him fumbling behind her. A tear of foil and a quick snap later, he was back, looping her ankles around his neck and pulling her toward him until he’d nearly bent her in half. She could feel his heart pounding in rhythm with her own. His skin was so hot…

Oh God. He pushed inside her, and her body stretched to accommodate every last inch of him, clenching over him as her body primed to come.

“You feel so fucking good.” He steadied his grip on her hips as he pressed into her with slow, deliberate strokes.

Her only answer was to moan, low at first and then louder as his hands moved to cup her ass. He was squeezing, then massaging, filling every inch of her body with sensation. Her toes curled around him, and she pulsed her hips, desperate for everything he had to give her.

His lovemaking was even more maddening than his foreplay, the rhythm fast and demanding as he pounded into her deep and hard and then, just as she was about to peak, he would slow again, moving to massage her breasts and nipples. Driving her insane.

It was like she couldn’t focus on the sensations; they were everywhere, all at once. Every cell in her body was shooting off warnings, firing into overdrive.

“Please.” She clawed at the counter, using it to leverage herself forward, urging him deeper with the motion of her hips in a desperate attempt to quell the rising pressure between her legs. This time, he didn’t hold back. His jaw went tense and his hips worked like pistons, driving him into her in long, steady strokes.

He leaned down then, until they were chest to chest, her ankles locked around his hips, and he pressed his mouth to hers, dipping and swirling her tongue against his, catching her bottom lip

between his teeth as he dragged her over the edge. There was only the pulsing of his cock inside her and this kiss. The entire world around them could be on fire and she wouldn’t have cared.

He rocked against her harder, and she ground her hips against him in equal time, matching her kiss to the tempo. “Bryan,” she breathed against his mouth, and their eyes met. In his was something beautiful and terrifying, something she was pretty sure was reflected in her own.

But worst of all? That look was the thing that drove her over the edge. Her toes curled again, and the tingling began, traveling from the crown of her head through every inch of her body. The need was all consuming, and she met it with all the demand it required, drawing him deeper and deeper still until her walls quaked around his throbbing shaft. She clutched at the countertop again, curling her fingers around the edge, and held on for dear life, but there was nothing that could ground her.

She was flying, and he flew with her, stiffening, groaning her name as he came. She’d never felt so alive.

And it terrified her.

Chapter Seven

Serena peered through the window, stomach doing somersaults as she waited for him to show. Maybe things would feel less completely weird once she saw his truck pull up.

Maybe.

In the two days since she’d last seen him, he’d texted her a couple of times. Once with the details for tonight’s reunion, and once with a list of pertinent information about him that they’d never gotten around to discussing, which she returned in kind. Neither of them had mentioned what had happened, and neither of them had suggested getting together to go over their backstory again, either.