Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games #2)(54)

He kisses me again, but it’s rougher this time, edged with raw emotion. I stumble backward, and we slam into the desk, rattling the lamp. It topples off the edge to the floor. Connor leans forward. I’m forced back. My leg instinctively comes up as I try to keep my balance. My robe slips open over my bare thigh.

His mouth is hot and delicious. His tongue knows exactly what to do. Though I hate myself for it, my body responds as it always does to his touch, and I allow the kiss to go on longer than I should just because it feels so good.

Connor groans softly into my mouth. With one hand under my butt, he lifts me and scoots me up onto the desk. Now my thighs are open around his waist and my robe has fallen away and his hands are buried in my hair and digging into the flesh of my bottom and I’m dizzy, so dizzy I think the room has started to spin.

My head drops back. I gasp for air. He moves his mouth to my neck, sucking and biting with just enough pressure to sting. I shudder with the pleasure of it, and my lips part on a moan.

He tears open my robe.

With a muttered oath, he takes my breast in his hand and sucks on my hard nipple.

Arching, I cry out. In one swift motion, he sweeps his arm across the desk behind me, shoving away the telephone, a stack of magazines, a cup filled with pens. In a clatter, they follow the lamp to the floor. Connor pushes me flat on my back on the desk. He ravishes my breasts, moving greedily back and forth between them, sucking, licking, biting, making hungry, masculine noises as if he’s tearing into a steak.

From somewhere far away, I hear myself moan his name. My fingers twist in his hair. My hips rock helplessly.

Then he throws my legs over his shoulders, puts his face between my thighs and starts to feast.

And something happens that’s never happened to me before.

My mind blinks offline.

It’s not a slammed door, or a blackness like a curtain pulled across a window. It’s a release, like when you let something heavy fall from your hands.

“Fuck me,” I demand. “Now.”

Connor looks up from between my trembling thighs. He licks his full lips. His black eyes are like an animal’s. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m clean. Are you?”

“As a f*ckin’ whistle, princess.” Then he straightens, rips down his zipper, frees his stiff cock, and pushes it inside me.

I cry out. My back bows from the desk. I grip the edge of the desk to keep myself in place as Connor starts to thrust into me, his hands on my ass and his eyes on my face, those black animal eyes staring down like they want to devour me.

“Take off your shirt.”

He pauses for a fraction of a moment to comply, using one hand to grip his black T-shirt at the back of his neck and then drag it over his head. He tosses it away, and I’m treated to the sight of bronzed skin and hard abs and biceps that flex and bulge as he begins to thrust again. With every move, his dog tags glint in the light.

“You’re beautiful, jarhead,” I say brokenly.

He pants, “I’m yours, princess.”

With a painful burst, my heart fragments into a million jagged pieces.

The world fades to nothing but sensation. The push and drag of his body inside mine, his heat, weight, and scent, the sound of our labored breaths, flesh against flesh, the complaining groan of the desk beneath me.

The taste of all I can never have bittersweet on my tongue.

With a helpless cry of surrender, I close my eyes and disappear.





Twenty





Connor




Tabby’s orgasm is so abrupt, the force of it so violent, for a moment I’m stunned into motionless shock.

She’s strong, with the thighs of a runner, a taut figure honed by what must be countless hours of the practice of Krav Maga, and so the flex of her legs around my waist is no small thing. But really it’s her abandon that takes my breath away. The change that transforms her from one second to the next. The new way she gives herself to me, as if all her walls are crumbling, all the brakes have been stripped, everything she’s been holding back has broken through and is flooding her at once.

As if she’s finally here.

With this woman, you’re always dealing first and foremost with her formidable mind. The force of it is evident in every look. She’s beautiful, yes, blatantly, but the razor-sharp edge of her intellect gives her a prickly, untouchable quality. The rose is there in full bloom for you to admire, but watch out for those enormous thorns. They’re full of venom and have a taste for blood.

But this new woman beneath me now, this woman is all emotion. All head-tossing, passionate abandon. She’s writhing like a demon on my cock and begging me to f*ck her, f*ck her harder, and I’m three seconds away from losing control. So I do the only thing I can.

Slow it down.

I lift her, wrapping my arms around her back, and carry her over to the bed.

She moans as our bodies briefly disengage, then again, louder, as I lower her to the mattress, spread her legs, and gently push back inside her. She flings her arms and legs around me, turns her face to my neck, and shudders.

“Deeper,” she pleads, sounding desperate. “Harder. More, Connor. More!”

“I don’t want to come yet, sweetheart,” I murmur. Sheathed deep inside her, my cock throbs.

“He does.” She wriggles her hips.