Holy mother of God.
I fling my hand to her hair and pull her away. Just for a second...just until the wave passes. The wave that’s pushing me too close to the edge.
‘You know what I think?’ she says, looking up at me. ‘I think I’m exactly your type.’
The words hit home. Harsh, true. She is my type. She’s everything I’ve wanted and evaded for so long. Her haughty air, her elegant poise, her perfect fuck-me-now lips.
I bring her back to my cock. ‘Less talking.’
I don’t need a reminder that I’m destined to walk the world alone because I let my dick pick ’em, thus exposing me to the worst of the female species—the ones who will always feel themselves superior. Hell, she is superior to me. Because I’m the villain of this piece. I’m the one out to expose her, to break her, all for the money her brother is willing to pay me. And she—
She sucks over me and my mind quits, only a moan breaking through my consciousness. It’s not me. It’s not her. It comes from someone close behind me. Someone watching. It shouldn’t turn me on—none of this should. And still I fork my fingers through her perfect bob and hold her there. Watch as she takes me deeper with every thrust, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks, her eyes bright as they reach inside mine, her soft, feminine scent sailing up to me.
I am fucked. I can’t stop this—no matter what I want, or what is right.
I’m going to take all she’s willing to give—take it and walk away. Just as Jess would deserve, just as Coco—
Damn it, she isn’t Jess.
And that’s what’s eating at me, even as heat starts to streak through my limbs.
You’re the one to be despised. Not her. You’re the one blinded by your own pain, your own past, taking it out on her. You’re the nasty piece of work.
I groan over the realisation, squeeze my eyes shut, throw my head back. My balls contract, my release is imminent, and—
Fuck, I should warn her. But pleasure steals my voice, my ability to move. I can only grip her head tighter and try to breathe, try to stave it off. And then I’m gone, my hips jerking forward with the force of my release.
Heaven flows through my entire body, my head falling forward as my eyes open to take her in, wide with shock, with desire, with all manner of mixed-up emotion. And then there’s her hum of satisfaction, reverberating around my length as she takes my all. She’s not quitting and I don’t want her to. She’s taking my every last drop, forcing out reality and making me want more. So much more.
I soften my hands in her hair, caressing instead of holding. I drag in a breath and then my brain rips through the haze—you fucking idiot—and sends guilt and hatred hot on its tail.
And it’s not her I loathe. I know that with ice-like clarity now.
It’s me—all me.
* * *
Something flickers in his gaze, and for a second I worry that it’s regret I can see. I don’t want Ash’s regret. I want the fire back. The same fire that has me all wet, aching, needier than I can ever remember. It’s the perfect antidote for life. Powerful, all-encompassing, a perfect distraction.
I release his cock and put right his underwear—but I don’t zip him up. I’m not done yet. Not if I have my way. I lick my lips as I stand and take pleasure in his touch as he tilts my head towards him, his thumb and finger gentle on my chin.
‘You’re pretty talented.’
‘Call it practice.’
His eyes flash and his fingers flex. He didn’t like that...
‘I’ll bet you’ve had plenty of practice too.’ I throw it back at him and run my teeth over my bottom lip. I want to push him. I want to toy with his obvious conflict. I want this twisted game to go on for however long he will play it. ‘I bet your tongue is skilled in so many ways—or do you use your fingers more?’
I take hold of his hand upon my chin and slowly lower it down my body. My breasts prickle inside the confines of my bra as he travels through the valley between them and over my exposed midriff, which has me sucking in a breath.
He isn’t stopping me, but that war is back. I can see it in his gaze. At any moment he’s going to back away and leave, and the very idea is making my heart beat that little bit faster and urging me on.
I lift myself up on tiptoes and lean into his ear, my free hand working my skirt up, my other hand drawing his hand down. ‘Feel how wet I am...just for you.’
I slip his hand inside my lacy knickers, press his fingers into my wetness. His breath hitches in my ear, a curse hot on its tail.
Better. So much better.