Wicked Burn

“What was that for?” Niall asked dazedly. Her head spun from the taste and sensation of him.

“You had a witch’s smile on your face,” he said as he drew small circles on her damp lip. Niall stared at his rugged face, thoroughly hypnotized. “Come here.”

She stumbled behind him as he took her hand and entered the apartment, slamming the door loudly behind him. He pulled her into the bedroom. When he dropped her hand, he immediately began to unbutton his jeans.

“You were born on the North Shore and you look pretty damn near perfect in pearls. But when I see your mouth, all I can think about is you on your knees being very unladylike,” he told her.

Niall watched, spellbound, as he shoved down his jeans and a pair of white boxer briefs to his thighs. His cock jutted forward, heavy and hard, darkened and swollen with blood . . . ready to do business. He took the stiff pillar into his hand and stroked it slowly while she watched.

Niall felt warm fluid gush into her panties at the erotic image. She moaned when Vic put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her toward him. She began to willingly sink to her knees, but he abruptly stopped her. He rapidly unbuttoned her blouse.

“I want to see these while you suck me,” he muttered as he ran his fingers over one of her breasts. Her nipple immediately puckered tight for him.

Vic felt her eyes on him. He paused in the process of whipping her blouse over her shoulders and met her gaze. For a second he froze at the sight of the mixed desire and confusion he saw glazing her eyes. He thought about telling her that he was so desperate at that moment because he’d thought of her time and again since he’d last touched her, recalled the musky, sweet taste of her pussy on his tongue, jacked off countless times as he replayed fucking her while she convulsed around him in orgasm.

He could have gone to bed with another woman to take the edge off. There’d been plenty of opportunities to do just that. But Vic doubted that the tension that grew in him could be alleviated by anyone else . . . at least not totally. He’d anticipated having her again until his restraint sharpened his desire to a stabbing pain.

So even though he saw uncertainty in her beautiful eyes, he chose to let the heat of the moment burn it away. She would either accept his ways or she wouldn’t. He couldn’t change who he was for a woman. He’d already tried that once.

Didn’t work.

He tossed her blouse onto his bed and reached behind her to unfasten her ivory satin bra. His eyes remained glued to her pointed little breasts after he’d bared her. He wanted to suck on the pert beauties until the fat nipples stood red and distended above the pale, tender flesh of her breasts. The crests were already hard and pebbled with arousal. She’d melt like sugar on his tongue . . .

But his desire for Niall was so strong, so pure, that he couldn’t think of anything else but finding release at that moment. Once she’d taken the edge off, then maybe he could think about loving her slowly.

Maybe.

“Down on your knees, baby,” he ordered softly.

Niall had to use Vic’s hips to steady herself as she sank before him, so dizzy had she become with desire. She didn’t know why she did what he demanded without hesitation. She couldn’t imagine allowing it with another man. His manner was harsh . . . crude, even.

Her vaginal muscles contracted almost painfully. Her clit burned, starved for friction when she stared at the heavy erection that bobbed just an inch before her nose. The head of his cock was fat, fleshy, and smooth, clearly defined by a quarter-inch-thick ridge from the stalk.

He was going to stretch her lips just as he had her pussy.

The realization caused a wild hunger to spread from her lower belly in every direction until it pervaded her, leaving nothing untouched. She admitted the truth to herself before she pushed her tongue into the sensitive slit on the steely-hard knob of his penis, causing Vic to grunt sharply.

She did what he wanted because it aroused her, because she wanted to. Vic Savian pitched her into an almost unbearable level of excitement.

With that final thought she leaned forward and gave herself over completely to the sensation of him. Her tongue circled the fleshy head curiously, tracing the hard ridge beneath the full circumference once. Then she stiffened her tongue and polished that smooth knob until it was shiny, coating her tongue in the flavor of him—salty, musky man. Her eyes fluttered closed rapturously as she encircled the girth of his cock with her hand and began to slowly pump the steely hard, straight flesh of the stalk. Her tongue circled, pressed, and fluttered across the head. He felt indescribably good, like distilled power trapped and sheathed in the confinement of taut skin.

She knew perfectly well she was teasing him. She sensed the tension in his lean body, heard his muted grunts. Her eyes opened and she glanced up at him furtively for confirmation—and yes. His handsome mouth pulled tight into a feral snarl. The sight made her clit pinch with excitement.

But still she teased the tiger.

Vic watched her through narrowed eyelids as her red tongue and tight, pumping hand tortured him. Her tongue was a limber tease, quick and elusive one moment, hard, stiff, and pressing the next. When she slapped at the straining head rapidly while she jacked the stalk with a loose fist, making his cock bob like a thirsty dog’s tongue, he cursed violently and palmed her head.

“Suck on it, Niall, or I’m gonna spank your ass so hard you’re not going to be able to sit tomorrow.”

He could have sworn he saw her give him that witchy little smile before she arrowed his cock into her warm, humid depths. Her tongue pressed up on him sinuously until he was lodged securely against the hard ridge of her upper lip. She applied a steady, eye-crossing suction.