Dirty Devil / The Fling. Stefanie London
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His mouth quirked and I found myself watching it. God, it really was the most perfect I’d ever seen. Full lower lip, beautifully carved top lip. And the way it curved at the ends... ‘If you have a crappy time, it screws with my reputation, and I can’t have that.’
Damn it. I had been hoping for less conversation, not more, because I didn’t want to make myself memorable to him in any way, and I’d bet that the presence of my virginity might end up doing just that. He probably didn’t encounter many virgins at his parties and that would make me stand out.
He’s going to guess. He’s not stupid.
Pity. And, even worse, he was observant too; while that felt good, it also presented a difficulty I hadn’t anticipated. Because it meant he could read me. Most people ignored me, but not him.
I forced down my irritation. Perhaps a few half-truths would be enough. ‘Well, we can’t have your reputation being screwed with, can we?’ I said, trying and failing to hide my sarcasm.
His eyes narrowed and he let go one of my wrists, his warm hand cupping my jaw instead, his fingers hot against my skin. ‘This isn’t a joke, Sugar. I’m serious. When I fuck a woman, I want her to enjoy it, and if she doesn’t enjoy it then I don’t either, understand me? I don’t waste my time on crappy sex.’
‘You didn’t seem to want to have a conversation before.’ I tried not to lean into the warmth of his hand.
‘Yeah, but you had your mouth wrapped around my dick.’ Wickedness glinted in his eyes. ‘So I was thinking of other things.’
I put my hand on his chest, feeling the solid strength and heat of him. ‘Well, I liked everything you did back in your office.’
He watched me, trying to read me. ‘You ever fuck a man you didn’t know before?’
A flush crept up my neck, making my cheeks burn. Clearly nothing was going to happen until we’d discussed his ‘ground rules’.
‘No,’ I said, attempting not to sound sulky.
‘Didn’t think so.’ His thumb found the line of my jaw, stroking gently. ‘Which makes talking about it even more important. Because you don’t know me, and I don’t know you.’
What he was saying made sense. Good sense. But I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to have to tell him a single thing if I didn’t have to and, now I’d got a sense for this physical chemistry between us, I was starting to think that I didn’t have to. Not if I played this right.
I turned my head, nuzzling into his palm, brushing my mouth over it. He stilled, so I kept going, kissing his wrist, his strong, steady pulse against my lips. And then I leaned forward until I’d closed the distance, pressing my mouth to his.
His fingers tangled in my hair, gripping me and pulling me back. ‘Sugar—’
‘I’d like it if you took off your clothes,’ I interrupted breathlessly, hoping that would shut him up.
For a second I thought it wasn’t going to work, danger glittering in his eyes as he studied me. Then abruptly the sharp glitter faded, a slow-burning smile curving his mouth. ‘There, that wasn’t hard, was it?’ He let me go and stood back, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it over a nearby armchair, before taking off his shoes too. Then he began to undo the buttons of his black shirt.
My breath caught, relief mixing with my building hunger, unable to take my eyes off him.
He took it slow, as though this was a strip show he was putting on just for me, undoing each button, the fabric of his shirt parting little by little to reveal skin and ink in a gradual tease.
My mouth went dry and I had to curl my fingers into my palms to stop myself from reaching for him.
By the time he got to the last few buttons, I could hardly contain myself.
And then there were no more buttons and he was shrugging off the shirt, leaving him in only the suit trousers that sat low on his lean hips.
Light from the city outside painted his skin, drawing attention to the chiselled lines of his pecs and abs, and the Japanese-style tattoo that covered his chest, left shoulder and crawled down his left arm. Against a background of ornate fish scales in beautifully shaded blacks and greys, a brilliantly coloured dragon coiled amongst delicate flowers. The piece was as glorious as he was.
He dropped a hand to the waistband of his trousers, flicking open the button and then easing down the zip. Then he was shoving the fabric down along with his boxers, getting rid of them so he was finally, gloriously naked.
I shivered, my gaze falling to his lean hips and powerful thighs, to the proud jut of his long, thick cock.
He was so very beautiful I couldn’t stand it.
Desperate to touch, I moved to the end of the bed, kneeling upright on the mattress, reaching out to brush my fingertips over his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles and the burning heat of his skin. He didn’t move, letting me explore, letting me brush one of his nipples with my fingertip.
Him being naked while I was dressed should have made me feel more in control, but it didn’t. His nakedness only highlighted his raw sexuality, sheer physical strength and power and the mega-watt burn of his charisma. And how much all those things made me his slave.
‘Don’t think I’m going to forget that you didn’t answer me properly.’ His voice was a low purr as I stroked him with a shaking finger, liquid honey and black velvet all rolled into one. ‘Which means you have two choices. One, you let me take charge. Two, you have to ask me for everything you want.’
I didn’t want to have to ask him. I didn’t want to have to give anything away. Which left me with only one choice.
‘The...first one,’ I murmured, tracing the head of the dragon over his pec, not wanting to look at him.
But he pressed my palm flat to his chest while his other hand slid along my jaw, his fingers in my hair as he tugged my head back until I met his tarnished-silver gaze.
‘Say it,’ he ordered softly. ‘I want the words so we both know what’s happening here.’
I swallowed. ‘I want you to be in charge.’
The expression on his beautiful face didn’t change. ‘You know what that means, don’t you? That you’re going to have to trust me.’
Something inside me yawned wide. Trust? Seriously? How could I do that? The only person I’d ever trusted in my life was Mr Chen and he was dead.
But he must have seen my uncertainty, because he added, ‘Just with your body and your pleasure. That’s all.’
Oh. Well. That I could do. He’d given me so much pleasure already, it was an easy choice to make. ‘Yes, I trust you,’ I said thickly.
‘Okay, then.’ The tension around his beautiful mouth eased and one corner of it curled wickedly. ‘Time for you to get naked.’
He released me and reached for my uniform before I could move, pulling it up and over my head, leaving me kneeling on the mattress in nothing but my underwear. Then he slid one hand behind me and flicked open the catch of my bra in an easy, practised movement. I caught my breath as the fabric fell away, and then again as he crouched in front of me, his hands going to my hips to ease my knickers off. The fabric slid down and I moved so he could pull it off me, and then he stepped back, leaving me naked on the bed.
For a second neither of us moved and I could hear my own accelerated breathing, loud and fast. His gaze ran over me, the heat climbing, becoming molten.
Then he got onto the bed with all the lithe grace of a panther, picking me up as if I weighed nothing and taking me back down onto the mattress, pinning me beneath him, his body hot as a furnace.
Shivering, I wrapped my legs around his waist, arching into him, desperate to get close. I’d forgotten about the necklace, about my client,