“The last thing I’m going to be to you is nice,” I said.
I lifted Shannon to the countertop, knocking over glasses, bottles, and utensils in the process. With her hair wrapped around my fist, I pulled her head back and my mouth latched onto the graceful slope of her neck. Her pulse was hammering and she offered tiny hums each time my tongue skated over her skin, but it wasn’t enough to kiss her. I needed to lick, suck, bite. Her fingernails scored my neck and shoulders as I ground my erection between her legs, and what I really needed was to fuck her.
My arm swept out, clearing the remaining barware from the surface. I rocked into her again and her warmth drew a choked, ragged moan from deep inside me. I buried my head in Shannon’s chest, kissing and nipping every freckle I could find while my hand slipped up her shorts. I was inches away from her panties when her fingers closed around my wrist, a warning look in her eyes.
“I amnotfucking you on a bar,” she said.
Oh, there was the spitfire.
“Let’s get one thing straight right now,” I said. My fingers were drawing slow circles on her inner thigh and nothing compared to watching her arousal extinguish her anger by small degrees. “I do the fucking here.”
Chapter Four
SHANNON
Eighteen months ago
This boy wasasavage.
The door to my cottage wasn’t even closed and Will had my face pressed flat to the wall while he stripped me to my bra and panties. And he didn’t waste any time thrusting that bulge against my ass, reminding me thathe’ddo the fucking.
Will’s fingers flicked over my back and my lacy B-cup bra was gone, along with the bangles on my wrist. He curled one finger around the side of my panties, and it was enough to send them drifting down to my ankles. From there, his hands spread out, shifting until he was holding me in place with one hand on the small of my back and the other tangled in my hair.
What the hell was I thinking? Kissing him. Bringing him back to my cottage. Having an admittedly hurried birth control and STD conversation at the door. Promising we’d never burden Lauren with the events of this evening. Letting him strip me naked. And it wasn’t like I could avoid him tomorrow. I could try, but…oh, fuck, his mouth was on the back of my neck.
He licked every inch of my neck and shoulders but it was his rough chin that had me panting and arching my back to feel more of his erection. That sharp scruff awakened every nerve, and I couldn’t stop a shiver from vibrating through me.
Right, right, now I remembered why I was doing this: I was thinking my last decent orgasm occurred in my twenties.
“Be a good little cock tease and stand still until I tell you to move,” he growled in my ear.
What did he say to me?
I was outraged and insulted and ready to shove his commando ass out the door. Regardless of whether I’d fulfilled my commitment to Lauren or not, I didn’t put up with shit like this. I could survive on inadequate orgasms. I preferred my men civilized, thank you very much.
“You’re such an arrogant asshole,” I said, and those words weren’t halfway out of my mouth when his hand cracked over my ass. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of the moan his touch garnered, but I was powerless to swallow it when his hand coasted over my backside and between my legs.
“I’m gonna keep that smart mouth of yours busy,” he said. He edged my feet apart and we groaned in unison—loud, needy, and unhinged—when his thick fingers circled my clit.
No one had ever—ever—spoken to me that way before.
The sounds of his belt unlatching and his fly unzipping crawled over my skin and burrowed, frantic and urgent, in my muscles. He guided his cock against my folds, his breath shuddering on my neck. He leaned into me, his throbbing length right up against my ass, and said, “Now I’m going to show you what it means to be fucked.”
“You talk a really big game,” I said as his fingers speared inside me and his thumb came down on my clit. “It’s actually very cute but—”Oh,those fingers. I wasn’t capable of sustaining cogent arguments when those fingers were moving in and out and everywhere, and why, why,whycouldn’t the men I’d met through online dating have this kind of dexterity?
Will bit his way up my shoulder, chuckling. “You were saying something?”
That conceited bastard.
“I was saying your technique is awkward at best.”
He pulled away, and the absence of his imposing warmth—and fingers—left me aching. Tossing him the most hateful glare I could conjure, I pivoted, completely impervious to the fact that I was naked in five-inch wedges and trembling with want.
His hand was gliding up and down that beautiful beast of a cock, and my tongue darted out to gather the drool that was about to spill from my parted lips. I glanced up to find him watching me, and I knew he saw every one of my hungry, dirty thoughts as if they were scrawled across my body like subtitles.
“Does your pussy taste as good as it looks?” Will asked.
I tossed my hair over my shoulder and folded my arms under my (very bare) breasts. “Better,” I said. “But it’s not like you’re ever going to find out.”
