Dirty Devil / The Fling. Stefanie London
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a deal when I’d first decided on it, but now I was on my knees in front of him, with the salty taste of his skin in my mouth and the hard ridge behind his zip staring me in the face...
Well.
It seemed like kind of a big deal now.
I’d followed my gut when he’d started asking questions, dropping my act and giving him the truth—or at least a bit of it. Letting him see a piece of the real me: the woman who wanted the sun, not the shadow. Yet still he’d asked questions about whether I was there to kill him or to rob him, so I’d had to do something.
Taking his thumb into my mouth had seemed like a good idea at the time, giving me some control over what was happening. But somehow—and I still didn’t know how he’d done it when I thought I’d been making progress—he’d taken charge of things again.
He was looking at me now, one pierced brow raised in arrogant challenge, a man supremely aware of his own beauty and his extensive sexual prowess.
Daring me to refuse. To say no and pull away.
But I couldn’t. I was used to being unnoticed, yet he was noticing me, his focus so intense it was as if he was memorising every inch of me.
It was intoxicating. Addictive. And I wanted more.
You can’t afford to have him notice you, not like that.
No, I couldn’t. Then again, the chances of him ever actually remembering me were remote to non-existent. Not me, with a face you wouldn’t look at twice in the street. Your average, every-day everywoman.
I could let myself have this moment, couldn’t I, where I felt like the centre of the world instead of not even being part of it?
I took a slow breath, then another, trying to get my heartbeat under control, but he smelled so good, spice cut through with musk, and it made me ache. While the heat of his body made me want to stretch out and warm myself against him.
Yes, I could have it. I wanted it, so I was going to take it.
I lifted my hand and took hold of the tab of his zip. Then I drew it down.
The glitter of his eyes intensified, and as I spread the fabric of his trousers, I felt the tension in his muscles gather.
‘Sugar...’ he murmured as I leaned back slightly, looking at what I’d uncovered: the black cotton of his boxers stretched over the ridge of his very hard cock.
I certainly wasn’t an expert but, whoa. He wasn’t small, was he?
And it was me who’d got him like that. Pretty good for an unremarkable foundling whom no one had wanted.
Don’t get ahead of yourself. He probably gets hard for any woman.
It was true, so I tried to ignore the satisfaction that filled me. Not that it mattered anyway.
His fingers brushed over my cheekbone, making me shiver, but I ignored the touch, refusing to let myself get derailed.
Turning my hand over, I stroked my knuckles down the length of his erection, feeling the heat of him through the fabric of his underwear. The muscles of his thighs tensed as I did so and my satisfaction deepened.
He might very well get hard for every woman, but right now that woman was me and, hell, I’d take it.
Dimly, the cool part of my brain tried to tell me that there had to be a better plan than kneeling in front of a complete stranger to give him a blow job just so I could steal a damn necklace.
But I didn’t listen. It wasn’t about the necklace any more. It wasn’t even about distracting him so I could get away.
It was about the unfamiliar pulsing ache between my thighs and the hunger for something I hadn’t even known I wanted.
Since Mr Chen had died six months earlier, I’d told myself I was fine with how isolating the business was. That I didn’t mind being alone. Yet right now, with Blackwood hot and hard beneath my hand, I knew that I did mind. And that I wanted more than the shadows I currently lived in. I wanted some time in the sun.
My breathing was getting faster, louder. He could probably hear it.
I leaned forward and this time I brushed my mouth over the black cotton, inhaling his musky, masculine scent and the heat of his body.
‘Jesus...’ His voice sounded rough, stripped of its charm. His fingers slid beneath my jaw, gripping me firmly, and I just knew he was going to pull me away.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen.
I lifted my hands and rested my palms on the steel of his thighs, nuzzling against him. His muscles went rigid and I heard his breath catch. So I did it again.
‘Holy shit,’ he said breathlessly. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My whole body felt as if it was going to freeze and shatter into pieces if I moved away. I needed this. I needed him.
So I leaned farther into his heat, lifting one hand and hooking my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, tugging down the material.
Then it was my turn to catch my breath as I freed his cock.
Intellectually, I knew what a naked man looked like—I had a working Internet connection like most people—but looking something up online and seeing it in the flesh for the first time were two different things. And, as I was learning, that certainly applied to Damian Blackwood.
He was long, very thick and extremely hard.
He was also very pierced.
‘Oh, my God.’ I stared wide-eyed at the ring piercing the head of his cock. ‘Didn’t that hurt?’ Fascinated, I reached out, sliding a finger along his shaft to where the silver ring pierced him.
‘No.’ He sounded strangled, the muscles of his thighs like iron beneath my other hand.
‘But why?’ His skin was very hot and silky too. I touched him again, stroking him with my fingertips, and he made a rough, deep sound, his hand coming down to cover mine.
‘Because women like it. And so do I.’ He guided my fingers to the head of his cock. ‘It doesn’t hurt when you touch it either.’ The words were no longer smooth, but rough-edged.
He was liking what I was doing to him.
My mouth was dry and I swallowed, my own breathing coming faster as I stroked his velvety skin then cautiously touched the ring. Then, curious, I tugged gently on it.
He hissed, and I looked up sharply, worried for a second that I’d hurt him, despite what he’d told me.
Except it wasn’t pain that I saw as his gaze slammed into mine. Only a raw heat that stole the remaining breath from my body.
‘You want to suck me, then do it,’ he said roughly. ‘But you have to let me know now if you want the ring in or out.’
‘You can take it out?’
‘Yeah. If you want it in, don’t worry. I’ll be careful with your mouth. I know what I’m doing, okay?’
Of course. He’d probably done this a lot. But I didn’t need to think about what I wanted. I knew already.
I eased my fingers around his shaft, running my thumb up the underside of it, loving how he hissed again, muttering a curse under his breath. ‘Do you like it in?’ I asked. ‘Because I do.’
‘Then do it.’ His voice was harsh. ‘Suck me, Sugar.’
I didn’t need to be told. I wasn’t sure how to do this, but for the moment that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was hungry and I wanted to taste him. Wanted his heat inside me, chasing the shadows away.
So I tightened my grip and leaned in, touching my tongue to the head of his cock, licking him experimentally.
He