Thunder boomed.
“Seems like a storm is coming.” Her head tilted as she focused on Cass once more. “And the night isn’t over. Isn’t the point of a one-night stand—isn’t the point that it lasts for a whole night? Not like it’s a one-hour stand. It’s a one-night stand.” Judging by that eager cock, he was certainly ready to go again.
So was she.
“You’re too sore for more.”
Oh, was she? “Then I guess it’s your job to make me forget any pain. Think you’re up for that challenge?”
His hands fell to his sides. He took a surging step toward her. Then caught himself. “This is your chance to run.”
Cute. She tossed aside the covers. “I thought this was my chance to fuck the villain.” His words from earlier. “The night is young.” Another strike of lightning. “Some people are scared of storms,” she said as her nipples tightened and she remembered how utterly amazing he’d felt inside of her. “But, me? I like the rain. It washes away the pain.” Sometimes, she thought a part of her had died in the rain at that cemetery. Then she’d been born again—born with the goal of getting vengeance. “I’ll dance in the rain and laugh while the lightning strikes.”
He climbed into the bed with her. Didn’t touch her, not yet. “That’s dangerous.”
She reached out to touch him. Her fingers slid over the powerful muscles of his chest.
“You like dangerous things, don’t you, Agnes?”
Yes, she did. The good girl that she’d been long ago would have run from danger. These days, all she did was run to it.
“Get on me,” he ordered. “Get on my dick, now.”
Her eyes widened.
He didn’t wait for her to comply. He caught her hips. Lifted her up. Settled her on top of him. Her legs were spread, one knee going down on either side of Cass.
“Grab a condom. Put it on me.”
Her hand reached out. On the second try, she opened the nightstand. Retrieved a condom. With more fumbling, she succeeded in actually getting the packet open. Yes, she was exceedingly clumsy and halting with the whole process. Not like she put condoms on guys all the time.
She pumped his dick. Slid her fingers over him. Very, very slowly, Agnes rolled that condom over his thick cock.
He hissed out a breath. “Don’t play.”
She wasn’t playing so much as trying not to tear the condom. But she bluffed with, “Why not? We have the rest of the night.”
“Get on my cock.”
“Tsk. Tsk. You could try asking nicely.”
He didn’t ask nicely. He did put his hand between her thighs where he proceeded to absolutely own her clit. Stroking and rubbing and pinching feverishly until her breath choked out and she moaned his name over and over again. She got wet and ready again, and she didn’t care if she was sore or if that big cock was going to stretch her when he drove deep into her.
She heaved her body up. She rose onto her knees, and she got onto his cock. She pushed down, and she took him inside of her. Not inch by inch. Not the slow way he’d done before.
All the way inside in one surge. Until he was as deep as he could go. Until her heart raced and her breath caught and she was precariously balanced on that tightrope of pain and pleasure again.
One of Cass’s hands stayed on her clit. His fingers stroked her more.
His other hand caught her right nipple. Played and tormented.
“Up, FBI Agent Quinn.”
She went up on her knees.
“Down,” he gritted out.
She was already surging down. Going up. Coming down. Moving fast and frantically because need blasted through her, and she loved the rake of his fingers on her clit and the way his dick pushed so deep inside of her.
