“I hope you weren’t really using the bathroom,” he says. The words skate over my skin, hardening my nipples and making slick gather between my legs. My stomach bottoms out as he boxes me in, lifting my ass to the sink ledge, and steps between my legs. “Because I really need to collect another hole-in-one payment.”
“You aren’t really giving me an option, are you?” I ask with a breathless laugh.
He leans forward and inhales. “I’m drunk on your perfume. Tell me no and I’ll stop.”
“No,” I whisper to see what he’ll do.
He nips my throat and chuckles. “Mean it, sweetheart.”
I mold my hands to his chest, drawing him closer. “No,” I say again.
He rumbles against me, a low growl flowing over my heated skin. “Still not meaning it.”
“Oh.” A gasp bubbles up as he nips me harder just below my earlobe. “No.”
The weakest protest of the three, as my fingers thread into his hair, holding him to me. He sucks my sensitive flesh into his mouth, biting me softly, before soothing it with his tongue. A soft whimper falls from my lips, and he runs his hand up the other side of my neck, his thumb on my pulse point.
“Perfume for me, Lilah.” It’s a demand. Almost a command, pure primal alpha snapping. My stomach drops, a shot of electricity runs down my spine, and my body does what any omegas would in this situation—I submit to him, my sweet cookies and cream scent permeating the space, my desire for him on full display with my smell alone. He groans, his teeth grazing my jawline, before finding my mouth.
His tongue delves between my lips, taking what he wants. His palm on the back of my neck, angling my head to give him deeper access. I’m lost to him with just a kiss.
“You are such a good little shield,” he murmurs, his grin widening as he presses a teasing kiss to the corner of my lips.
I gasp, trying to remind him, “No cameras are in here.”
His eyes darken, and the playful mask slips. “Good, because I don’t want them to see what I’m about to do to you.”
The words hit me with a jolt. I know the “shield” comment is just a cover now. He’s tossed aside the pretense, and there’s no mistaking his intentions. He’s not thinking about playing a role or sticking to the plan. What he wants from me is raw and unfiltered, and he’s not afraid to show it.
My stomach does somersaults like it’s being paid to perform as his hands trail down my sides to my legs. He gathers the skirt of my dress in his fists and works it up my legs, closing the distance between us as he does.
His thumbs glide against my soaked panties, and I arch against the barely-there touch like a touch-starved omega. Which isn’t too far off the mark.
Then he drops to his knees in front of me, his eyes fixed between my legs. He licks his lips and lifts his golden gaze to mine, silently checking in, before focusing on my panties. He leans forward, sucking at the material and earning a needy moan from me.
“You taste so fucking good.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to react before he hooks his fingers into the band of my underwear and pulls them down. Lifting my ass just enough to get them off. He pockets them, but I’m far too needy at the moment to care.
He leans forward, his breath puffing over my sensitive folds, then his tongue slips against me. He groans, and my fingers thread into his hair, attempting to drown him with my sopping wet pussy. But apparently he is Aquaman because he doesn’t even come up for air as he sucks and tongues me. My clit pulses with need as he swirls his tongue over the swollen bud.
I cry out loudly as he continues his assault. He snakes his hand up, pressing his palm flat against my lips, holding in any other sounds I might make.
“Shhh, sweetheart, this is our secret to keep,” he rumbles against me, and it lights me on fire.
My orgasm burns through me like a forest fire, catching anything in its path up in flames. I lock my legs around him as my head falls back, breaking contact with his hand. A loud moan parts my lips, and I don’t care. The whole space smells like me and chocolate with peanut butter. I need more.
“I need you,” I say, and it cracks out of me like a plea.
He leans back, my legs draped over his shoulders, and grins up at me. “You have me on my knees—” he says, dropping a soft kiss to my inner thigh. “What more do you need?”
He knows.
The bastard knows.
He just wants me to say it out loud.
I swallow, dragging my nails over his scalp as I tug on his hair, encouraging him to find his feet. “Sex, Rafe,” I whisper against his lips as he leans into me.
