“Say my name,” he whispers, his heated breath warming my mouth.
“Justice,” I whisper instantly, overcome.
Triumph and hunger glitter in those eyes now along with pleasure. At the sound of my voice. His name. The situation, probably. “If this is what it takes to make you obey, I’m all in.” He scrapes his nail across my clit.
I bite my lip to keep from crying out. Panic fills me along with the most erotic sense of danger. My clit has a mind of its own as I move against his hand.
“Who owns you?” His mouth is on mine now, and I can feel his lips move.
I shake my head, holding my breath. I won’t give him that. Not here. Not now.
The car lurches to a stop, and my shoulders relax. I realize a second too late that there is no safety. Somebody outside the car opens the door and Justice moves us out and into the drilling rain, his fingers still inside me. He tosses me over his shoulder, his fingers working now, his other hand now on my back, keeping me in place.
Rain drills us and chills me. I try to struggle, and headds a third finger to the others, stretching me painfully. Then we’re inside.
“Don’t disturb us,” he orders.
Oh, man. He really doesn’t care who sees us doing anything. Everything. Doesn’t care a whit.
I’m flopped over his back, my hair covering my face, and I don’t look up from a worn wooden floor. Don’t want to know who sees. The smell of peanuts fills my head. We move into another room and he kicks the door shut with one foot. He leans forward, and a bunch of papers and notebooks as well as a laptop crash to the floor.
He flips me over onto my back and I land on a desk, shoulders and then my head as he rips off my jeans and panties. He crouches and his mouth is on me. Hard. His thumbs dig into my thighs, spreading them, and then he sucks my clit into his heated mouth.
Fire lashes through me. I cry out, an old desk chilling my butt. It’s not enough. Too much. I can’t think. He nips and licks, not gentle, bringing me to the brink. Right to the edge. Then he backs off. Once and then again. I’m sweating, moving, needing. I can’t think. My ears tingle. His grip is bruising, and his mouth deadly.
He lifts up, his chin on my clit, as he releases my thighs. “Keep them open or I’ll spank your pussy until you’re raw.”
A mini orgasm nearly takes me and my thighs tremble. But I stay still. So I don’t see his hand move until it’s clasped around my neck, partially raising me.
I grab his solid arm out of instinct.
“Hands. Down.” There’s no give in his tone, and his face looks carved from rock. Hunger glows in his eyesalong with that darkness that terrifies me. Yet I’ve never wanted anyone or anything this badly.
I dig my nails into his forearm.
His fingers tighten on my neck until my air is cut off. Tears fill my eyes and I scratch him, fighting. He doesn’t relent. Finally, the room swimming around me, I drop my arms to the desk. His hold relaxes.
I suck in air, gasping, my body on fire. The orgasm to end all orgasms hovers right there, out of my reach. As if my body is waiting for his command.
His gaze hasn’t left mine. Then his fingers tighten again, taking the air. My nails curve against the worn desk, but I don’t lift them. Not again. I can’t breathe. Approval fills his eyes. He marginally relaxes his hold. My very life is in his hand. One hand. “Beg me.”
The order barely permeates. “Please.” For air? For an orgasm? For life? Maybe for all three?
He stands and pulls me upright at the same time. “My jeans. Now.”
I’m like a robot, obeying commands. Can’t think. Can only feel. I release his button and pull down his zipper. He’s rock hard behind the jeans. Commando. I push them down as far as I can and he takes care of the rest, releasing my neck to tear off his shirt.
It occurs to me that I can move back.
He watches me as if reading my mind.
I don’t move. The long span of his chest, muscled and cut, fills my view. Bullet holes, a couple of them, knife wounds, and whip marks are evident. Beauty and death, all in front of me. The symbol of Malice Media is tattooed over the myriad of scars there.
He slides a hand between my legs, cupping my butt,and lifts me. With one hand. His other grasps my hips and flips me, leaving me on my hands and knees on the desk.
“Um.”
Grasping both of my hips, bruising me, he shoves inside me with one hard push. To the hilt. I cry out, pain and pleasure swamping me, his hands keeping me from falling forward.
