Page 74 of Ricochet

She handed the bottle back to me, licking her lips, eyes selling her intent, and I’d have offered up my soul at her request. Her step toward me kicked my pulse rate into the red zone. Alarms blared inside my head, like the cavalry of sanity had come to beat some sense into my brain.

The palm of her hand slid beneath my coat, not even touching my skin, and had my chest rising and falling, as if I’d never been stroked by a woman’s hands. “Aubree … we …” My body rebelled by choking the words I should’ve said, and though her head remained bowed, her cheeks bubbled with a smile.

“I know.” She shook her head. “God, you must think I’m … some kind of freak. Almost raped, and I’m coming on to the man who …” Her face lifted. “Saved my life. I guess I’ve been the target of pain long enough to know the difference between a man who’d hurt me without remorse, and one who’d sooner hurt himself than lay a hand on me.”

Her gaze fell from mine, and I followed its descent to my hands, where blood trickled from my palms as I dug my fingernails into them. “You must be a fucking masochist to want anything to do with me.”

Her hand slipped beneath my shirt, making my stomach muscles clench on contact, and her eyes locked with mine. “Or maybe I see something deeper than the darkness you wear on the surface, Nick.”

What overcame me, I couldn’t say exactly, but I pushed her back, up against the counter. Perhaps by instinct, her fists lifted between us, but I hoisted her onto the island countertop, putting her level with my thighs, and pinned her wrists behind her, against the cold, gray tiles, before pressing my lips to hers. Soft and slick, they glided beneath mine and tasted like the sweet whiskey that coated them.

A moan purred inside her throat and the tension in her arms subsided, as she surrendered to me.

With both her wrists gathered in one of my hands, I yanked the front of her dress down so hard it tore the seam. One of her large, pert breasts popped free as I peeled back her bra. Fucking perfect, just as I’d fantasized. Her cold nipple piqued and hardened when I circled it with my tongue, and I groaned at the ease of conquering her. Her delicious sugar scent, like caramel and vanilla, filled my nose as I sucked her breast and flicked my tongue against her stiffened little nub.

Another soft moan escaped her, and she slid against the countertop as if she couldn’t keep herself upright. Her brow creased in a pained expression that I couldn’t read at first, until her half-hooded eyes lifted and her tongue swept lazily across her lips in a way that damn near screamed fuck me.

“Do you want me to?” The husky tone of my voice mirrored the tight thread of control I grappled to hang on to. I felt like a raging storm of lust ready to annihilate her as my thumb played against her nipple. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Bottom lip caught between her teeth, she nodded, and I could damn near feel the sting of that fragile thread snapping inside of me. Like a beast set free from its confines, I lowered my hand between her thighs, nudged them apart, and wrenched her tiny panties to the side, nearly tearing the damn things right off of her.

Slow down. In long, agonizing strokes, I worked my thumb inside her silky seam, eyes locked on hers all the while. The soft flutter of her lashes accompanied the warm flush that colored her cheeks. Beautiful. I slid my index finger down over her pubic bone, to her slick entrance. Fucking hell. So goddamn tight and wet, my dick twitched at the thought of being inside her.

She cried out and jerked against me, like pleasure and morality battled inside her head.

There was no room for morals between us. We’d breached the line of decency and fallen into dark depravity. She’d become my willing victim, my muse, my toy to act out my most twisted carnal desires. No going back.

I glided my finger along her cleft and caught the slight tremble in her thighs. With my teeth, I tore the fabric from her other breast and imparted the same attention there.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Please!”

Lifting, I pressed my forehead to hers, squeezed my eyes shut. “Are you certain about this, Aubree? Because, fuck, I can’t go back. I can’t stop myself.” I just hoped to hell it wouldn’t end how it’d always ended with other women. I wanted to get lost in that scent, her sounds. Fall into that shadowy world of pain and pleasure, never to resurface again.

“I’m certain,” she whispered.

With hands that longed to roam every inch of her skin, I caressed her breasts with furious movements, tugging both nipples to hardened pebbles, before I yanked the dress over her head, leaving her body exposed. Ready for me to feast upon right there in kitchen.

Like fine, imported silk, her skin passed beneath my fingertips as I dragged my hands down her shoulders, to her arms. Nudging her jaw tipped her head to the side, allowing me access to her throat, where her pulse hammered against my tracing tongue. Her neck rippled with a swallow. Broken breaths hit my lips when I captured her mouth in a kiss. “You smell so good, Aubree. I could devour you right here.”

“Do it.”

A yank of her legs pulled her to the edge of the countertop, and I gave a gentle push against her chest, until she lay back on the surface, and draped her legs over my shoulders. So close to her bare pussy and the pink bud of her clit, saliva pooled on my tongue, and like a God-fearing man in prayer, I damn near fell to my knees, admiring the absolute perfection spread out before me. I kissed her navel and dragged my tongue down, down, to just above the sweet spot. The clean, fragrant scent of her arousal shot tingles to my jaw and struck some primitive part of my brain that coaxed me to ravage the woman like some kind of wild animal.

Slow. Take it slow.

She pushed upward and, balancing on her palms, circled her hips against the countertop in a slow, teasing motion. Gripping her hip with one hand, I used the other to spread her pink seam open and licked upward, smiling at her curses. Tongue buried in her soft folds, I curved my finger up inside of her, a slow finger fuck that complimented each long lick across her swollen clit. A moan rumbled at the back of my throat at her sweet taste. Wetness coated the finger I pumped in and out of her while I feasted on her like a starving man. I stopped only long enough to suck it off before inserting a second finger alongside the first.

I could’ve spent all night savoring Aubree’s body, learning all of her darkest desires, but the urgency burning inside of me told me to enjoy the moment while it lasted, before the blackness settled in and stole it away.

Her hands threaded through my hair, tightening as I tipped my head and sucked her clit with fervor, as though it’d all end any second. “Oh, fuck! Fuck!”

Her squirming beneath me did nothing to interrupt my focus—I couldn’t get enough of the woman. A growing need to hear her scream my name had me upping the pace of my fingers while spreading her folds to explore every inch of her beautiful pussy. With her thigh draped over my shoulder, I grabbed her ass to hold her in place, and felt her muscles contract in the palm of my hand while her body jerked in time to my pumping. Our movements were mad, furious, craving. With steady thrusts, I finger-fucked her while suckling her, licking her, bringing her to climax. I’d forgotten the taste of a woman, forgotten the smell of arousal beating through my senses, like a war drum begging for her to be debauched. I needed to feel her shatter around my tongue, to feel her milk my finger with orgasm, and hear her screams fracture inside my head.

I needed her to come. I’d hold out for that sweet sound, would push away the blackness just long enough to know I’d sated her.

Her breaths turned to panting. Her fingers dug, scraping into my skull. Soft moans turned urgent pleas of, “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

As if I could. As if I had any measure of control right then that could keep me from what I needed, what she begged me for.