Page 4 of Damien’s Mate

He usually wasn’t quite that blunt, but tonight he didn’t fucking care about that either. She just gave a throaty laugh and shifted so the dress hiked even higher.

Lord have mercy.

“Want a drink?” she asked. “I brought the good stuff.”

Somewhere she’d acquired a bottle of top-shelf whiskey and two glasses. She poured them drinks and handed him one. “To new friends,” she said, holding up her glass for a toast.

“I’m Damien,” he said. “To new friends.” They clinked glasses, and she held his gaze with hers. Her eyes were golden-green like a cat’s—for a second he even imagined he saw the pupils elongate into slits, but he blinked and the moment was gone.

Damien tossed back the drink, and she did the same. The whiskey hit the back of his throat smooth as silk, and warmed him all the way to his belly. He’d missed out on the steak dinner and the great-grandkids, but he had the whiskey and the hot woman, so maybe that was all he could ask of his death-day fantasy.

It sure beat bleeding out in an alley.

Lila pulled him closer, guiding his hand to her exposed thigh, then tilted her head and traced the line of his neck with her lips, barely touching the skin.

His whole body came alive with a tingling electricity. She was wearing some kind of musky scent that filled the room, surrounding him in a cocoon of pleasure and desire.

He’d never felt an attraction so powerful and so instant with anyone.

He put the glass down and dug his fingers into her hair the way he’d been dying to do since he first saw her. He kissed her, deep and hard, and she made a low noise in her throat, almost like a growl.

That was it for him. He pulled her head back, taking the kiss even deeper, while he slid his other hand up under her skirt.

Her hands were already at his fly, unbuckling and unzipping, and a second later her hand was on his dick. She stroked hard, running her thumb over the tip, and it was his turn to give a strangled groan.

She was wearing some tiny scrap of underwear, and in his impatience he just ripped it off her and slipped his fingers between her legs. She shifted position slightly to give him more access, and he found her slit, already slick with desire.

She wanted him as bad as he wanted her.

She pulled back slightly, and he heard the rustle of plastic wrap as she opened a condom. In seconds she’d rolled it over him.

Lucky she’d thought of it. She made him so crazy he’d been on the verge of just taking her bareback.

Then she moved toward him again, hiking her skirt up over her hips, and wrapped her legs around him. Damien had stopped thinking—about Salzano, about Rostov, about how crazy it was to have sex with some stranger in a powder room while he was at work.

He was going to fucking die anyway, so what the hell.

She was guiding him inside her now, and as he buried his length in her she moaned with satisfaction, biting his neck where it met the shoulder to muffle the sound.

Damien’s world had shrunk to the feel of her, the scent of her, satin skin and silky hair all wrapped around him. Heat and wet and the need to pound out all his anger and frustration and regret; heavenly ecstasy and dark primal possession.

He yanked the shoulder of her dress down and found her breast, cupping it in his hand, bending to take the nipple in his teeth. That got another growl, and his dick swelled and hardened even more. He sucked and licked as she bucked against his hips, before biting his way up her neck and then driving into her again.

He had no idea what he was doing or why, or what would happen afterward, but none of it mattered because his whole life had been leading up to this. Her. Moving with him, urging him on, wanting him.

The power of it rose inside him and he could feel the climax coming. Too soon, and not soon enough because he would die right here without that release… it was too much…

And then it crashed over him and he felt her tense briefly, and then come apart in a throbbing, melting climax of her own.

They held each other, panting, welded together like one person. Damien felt—shit, he felt things he didn’t even understand. It had just been a few minutes, wild and crazy, but he didn’t know how he would let her go, how he would walk out of here. He felt like his fate had changed, right here, right now.

Like he was going to live forever.

Dimly, in the hallway, he heard someone pounding on the door across the hall, and then a Russian-accented voice demanding Lila.

She froze. The pounding started again, on another door, the voice becoming angry.

Lila pulled away from him and slid off the counter, putting herself back together in seconds. She picked up her discarded panties, gave them a headshake when she saw they were unwearable, and stuffed them in Damien’s pocket.