Naughty or Nice

I rise up onto my knees and trail a fresh cube down her front, letting it rest in her belly button, where the ice water pools as she wriggles. Her eyes are glazed with lust, heavy and captivating, as she watches me part her legs.

I kneel between them, taking hold of the cube, and trace soft, light circles from her navel to the strip of hair. She is rigid now—ready, waiting—and as I tease her apart with the frozen edge she cries in her throat, her head thrown back.

I stroke the cube over her so lightly my touch is hardly there, but it’s enough. I can see it in her heightened colour, in the way her breath is ragged over the silk.

I circle her clit, gently caressing, watching her writhe for more. Her fingers claw in their binding, and her muscles are tight. I know that with one suck of my mouth she’ll be gone.

She lifts her head and looks to me, desperate, the crazy undulation of her hips begging. I toss the ice and grab her legs, lifting her to my mouth. I’m not soft, gentle, delicate. I’m rough, desperate, eager.

I claim her as my heart wants to. I drink from her. I dip inside her warm haven and then retreat, grazing her with the flat of my tongue as I slide all the way up.

The moment I strike her clit, her body spasms out of control. She’s coming, her screams muffled and carnal and snapping my restraint. I flip her over, twisting her binding with the move, and lift her hips to meet me as I thrust, burying myself deep.

Her tight, wet heat closes around me—so mind-obliterating, so new. She pushes back on her knees, her wrists pulling at the silk tie, demanding more.

But then I still as the unfamiliar sensation strikes a second’s clarity—condom.

‘Shit.’

I grip her hips to stop her—to stop me.

She throws me a look over her shoulder, her pleading whimper threatening my resolve.

‘Protection,’ I grind out.

She shakes her head, rocking her body in my hold, clamping her pussy around me. She’s telling me no. And, hell, I know I shouldn’t—but, Christ, I know I’m safe, and I trust her.

And, oh, my God, she’s pumping me. Back and forward again, her gorgeous body riding me, milking me. Heat rips through my thighs, my gut, my cock, and I’m thrusting hard and fast. There’s nothing delicate about it. I’m fucking her. My hands bite into her skin, her moans are wild, and I want more from her, louder...

My thighs slap against hers. I take hold of her arse and grip it tight. I rub at the plump flesh and test the surface with the flat of my palm. She looks at me, daring me to do it, her eyes glinting, and I spank her, the slap mixing with the heady sound of her cry.

I do it again. My blood pulsing with the crazed heat of it. Of letting go. No control. No nothing. Just me and her.

I feel like I’m punishing her. Some crazy kind of punishment for the sins of her family. But I can’t help it. And she’s taking it all, giving as good as she gets. It’s messed up, but I can’t stop.

And then I’m coming, pleasure streaking though my limbs, frenzied and out of control, and she’s there with me, her body spasming around me. My cry is so loud the whole jet will hear, but in that second I can’t care.

I only care for her. And it feels right. So right.

Fuck Nate. Screw the Beaumonts. She’s mine and I’m keeping her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I THOUGHT THE plane was impressive. I truly did. But now I’m standing in the penthouse of a skyscraper—our home for the next two nights—and I’m starting to forget what reality looks like.

I have a suspicion that Lucas owns this place. The private elevator to which he has access, the respectful greeting of the staff, the similar decor to that in his London apartment... There’s just something about it that’s all him.

And now I have it to myself. He’s gone out on some work errand, leaving me with strict instructions to call Room Service for food and get some sleep.

But, seriously, how do you sleep when you’re surrounded by this?

I twirl on the spot, my eyes tracing a spiral staircase that looks as if it’s been carved out of a solid marble block, the mezzanine gallery that leads off to the bedrooms, and the outside area that I’ve only just glimpsed. I know there’s a pool out there, just waiting to be used.

My stomach growls, reminding me of his orders. But Room Service? Really? When Singapore by twilight awaits? No way.

As Lucas is already learning, I might have followed instruction well as a child, even as a teen, but no more.

I also have this bubble of nervous energy inside me, and being surrounded by something that is so entirely him is too distracting.