Crimson Warrior (Onyx Assassins 3)

“Then tell your parents’ guests to keep their fucking hands to themselves!” Felix’s comment had hit its mark. She didn’t smell like me. Not in the way other males laid claim. If we’d really been mated, my scent would have been all over her—inside her, warning every other male of the certain death they’d face if they got too close.

And maybe he was right. Maybe Olivia’s scent had never sweetened with desire because she preferred males who didn’t kill on a nightly basis. Maybe she wanted the courtly love of the expensive-ass paintings that hung on the walls. Maybe the ugly truth of the matter was that she was my type, but I wasn’t hers.

“You’re acting like a territorial pain-in-the-ass mate!” She leaned in, bringing our mouths dangerously close.

Fuck it.

“You think that was acting like a mate?” I fired back, my blood surging hot through my veins. “This is what your mate would do!” I slammed my mouth over hers, kissing her hard and deep without preamble. My tongue darted and claimed, relearning every inch of her mouth.

I’d half-expected her to call me a fool and shove me away. Instead, she fisted my hair and pulled me closer, her tongue just as wild as my own as the kiss turned carnal.

“Olivia,” I groaned as my instincts beat at me like a caged animal, demanding I taste. Touch. Claim.

“Ransom!” She gasped as my mouth worked down her neck, sucking and licking the most sensitive parts.

The need for her pounded within me, consuming every logical thought until there was only her. Her silken hair in my hands. Her satin skin under my tongue. Her thighs parting as I yanked her ass to the edge of the desk.

I needed to be closer. Needed to be inside her. Needed the world to hear her screaming my name so every male in the next room knew exactly where she belonged—at my side.

My hand dipped beneath the neckline of her gown to free her breast. Perfect. The globe was plump and pert, her nipple a dusky color that begged for the attention of my mouth. I gave it, sucking the peak between my lips and flicking it with my tongue.

“Oh my God,” she moaned, her grip tightening in my hair.

It wasn’t enough. She tasted like sunshine and smelled like home.

My body was in control, but my mind knew we were crossing a line. This was Olivia. She was my friend. My colleague. Mine.

“Tell me to stop,” I begged her as I tucked her breast away and fell to my knees in front of her, leaving her back to the window.

“Ransom,” she moaned as I stroked my hands up her skirt and pressed her thighs open wide.

“You have to tell me to stop, Olivia.” The wild need within me consumed common sense, leaving only the undeniable heat of desire in its wake. My cock strained against my zipper as I pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee.

“Why. Would. I. Tell you. To. Stop?” she asked between gasping breaths as I kissed my way under her skirt.

“Because if you don’t, I’m not going to.” I licked the seam of her white silk thong where it met the soft skin of her inner thigh.

“And that’s a problem?” Her voice broke as I nicked the delicate fabric with my fang, brushing my lips against her silk-covered pussy.

“Only if you regret it tomorrow.” I inhaled and nearly lost it right there. She wanted me. Her scent flared with honeyed citrus of desire, and I breathed it in deep, holding it in my lungs, let it burn and brand me all in one breath.

“I’ll only regret it if you stop.” Her hips rocked.

My mouth watered.

I pushed the hemline of her dress to her hips, gripped both sides of the little tear my fangs had left in her underwear, and rent the fabric in two. Holy shit, she was perfect. Swollen and slick beneath a strip of chestnut curls, glistening with the need to be stroked and satisfied.

At least one of us can.

“I have to taste you.” That was all the warning I was capable of giving.

My fingers spread her wide, and my mouth followed.

“Ransom!” she cried out, the end of my name muffled as one of her hands released its grip on my hair. The other tugged me closer, and I groaned as my tongue found her clit.

So fucking sweet.

“If I was your mate, this wouldn’t be my tongue,” I said against her core between licks and sucks, letting the intoxicating taste of her slide down my throat. “It would be my cock.”

I thrust my tongue into her pussy.

Her walls clenched around me, holding me tight as I thrust in and out.

She alternated her moans between my name and God’s, all muffled behind her hand as I fucked her with my mouth.