Mr One-Night Stand

‘Christ, Marcus, I’m trying to save us from potential disaster.’

She was trying to save herself from a broken heart.

‘I admire your diligence,’ he whispered against her dampened skin, ‘but you’re worth the risk.’

Why did that feel so special? Why had her tummy gone to goo?

Something broke inside her—something that drove her hands into his hair and turned her body to liquid beneath him. It was the need to have him fill her, complete her, take away the painful ache, the worrying thoughts...

‘You taste like honey and vanilla,’ he breathed against her, his fingers following the arch of her neck, stroking

across the curve of her collarbone and dipping to meet with the fastened buttons of her blouse.

And then his fingers were undoing, and she couldn’t stop him—didn’t want to. The throb between her legs was desperate, her breathing erratic, her nails biting into his scalp.

He parted the fabric, letting the cool air of the car sweep across her front, and he cursed under his breath. ‘I can’t get enough of this.’

She looked to him through the haze, saw his gaze burning into her skin and she hit insanity, the lust curling through her obliterating all reason.

‘I need to taste you.’

His voice was raw, his face asking for permission and, Christ, she couldn’t speak, could only nod.

‘We don’t have long.’

It seemed he was making excuses, but for what she couldn’t understand—until he dropped to his knees and pushed her skirt to her thighs.

‘I’d devour every last bit of you if we had the time, but as it is...’

Cupping her behind, he pulled her forward and shoved her legs apart, pressing her knees back against the cold leather. Somewhere in the rational part of her brain she knew she wanted to fight him, and knew why, but the painful reasoning, the painful ache—she wanted it all gone.

Obliterated by him.

‘Hold yourself open for me.’ He drew her hands in to replace his own, coaxing her to obey. ‘That’s it...’

He rested back, his eyes drinking her in, his burning desire choking the very air from her lungs, and then he reached out, hooking his fingers into her lace panties and pulling them aside, his free hand coming up to spread her open before him.

‘So wet...so fucking beautiful,’ he murmured, his head dropping forward, his mouth honing in on its target.

Fuck!

She threw her head back into the leather, a spasm shooting through her as he took her clit in his teeth. Pleasure ripped through her, and her nails bit into the skin of her inner thighs as she held herself open.

He worked her, his mouth sucking, tongue flicking, teeth nipping. And then his fingers thrust into her, invading her like his cock would. One, two—yes, fuck, yes—three, four—Christ, yes. She ground herself against him wildly. She couldn’t fit more...she couldn’t—and then he curved in his thumb, his whole hand fucking her deep as his tongue lashed over her clit.

‘Come for me, baby,’ he urged.

And the heat in his voice, the endearment rumbling over her, his fist completing her—she was gone. Shattering over him, screaming his name as her whole world fell apart around her.

He sipped at her, withdrawing his fingers slowly and holding her hooded gaze as he licked them clean. ‘I don’t think I could ever tire of tasting you.’

If only that were true, came her internal voice, louder now in the aftermath, and she felt chilled, snapping her eyes away.

‘We shouldn’t have done that.’

The bitterness, the self-loathing was back. It bit into her tone and he shifted into the seat alongside her, his confusion penetrating the air.

‘Are you telling me you didn’t like it?’