Empire of Sin(Empire #2)(5)

I wonder if this British stranger would bow, too. If he’d dirty his Armani suit and mess up his perfect hair and lose his luxurious watch to the men in my life. Or maybe he’ll fight them.

The thought of him in a fight makes me shudder with a different type of arousal. I’ve been in a constant lusty haze since he sucked on my ears and neck and whispered in that hotter-than-sin voice of his.

Oh, and his accent. That’s the icing on the cake. It’s why I’m sure he’s in a different category than the men in my life. Their accent is different to his. Less sophisticated and more dangerous.

Though he might be dangerous, too, since he’s managed to do what none of the men I’ve lived around have even dreamed of.

He’s managed to have me.

Or he will soon.

The moment we step into the room, I take a deep breath to tell him this is a one-time thing, that like the no-names rule, it’ll be more thrilling if we never see each other again.

One fuck.

One moment.

And then it’s over.

But I don’t have the chance to utter any sound except for a gasp. Because the second the door closes, he whirls me around and his body pins me against it. His chest ripples against my spine and there’s something hard poking against the small of my back. Not something. It’s his erection, massive and ready, and holy shit, did it just twitch?

My breasts heave against the door and my breaths come fast and uncoordinated as I lay my heated cheek on the surface.

As if that’s not enough to send me into hyperawareness, he tangles his fingers in my hair and pushes the long strands to the side, baring my back and neck, then wraps his hand around my nape.

He grabs it in a steel-like hold, leaving me no room to move, and the knowledge of that? The fact that I’m completely at his mercy draws a shudder from deep within me. It’s long and consuming and leaves me in a daze.

I’m not supposed to surrender to this, right? To the knowledge that I might not be able to escape his clutches, even if I wished to.

It’s not in my good-girl genes to want this, but I can’t help the subconscious tremors rushing through me.

His teeth find my earlobe and he bites down. I’m drunk on the scent of his cologne, the discreet yet mystic quality to it, just like that forest from my childhood.

Logically, I should’ve stayed away from it and him, but I can’t.

I won’t.

I’m held hostage by his relentless grip and savage beauty. The type of beauty I didn’t know I was attracted to until tonight.

He’s still licking my earlobe, nibbling, assaulting it with his tongue, when he whispers, “Now, tell me, beautiful. Do you believe it’s a good idea to come with a complete stranger into a hotel room and not ask for his name?”

Shit.

Please don’t tell me he actually knows my family? Is this an attempt to lure me into a trap and expose me?

I put a halt to those thoughts before they occupy me. I’m just being paranoid.

That’s it. Paranoia and my inability to cope with it.

So I whisper, “I like it.”

“What do you like?”

“The nostrings-attached part.”

“I like that, too, but do you know what I like about it the most?”

“What?” My voice is too breathy and it has everything to do with his hold on me, with the way his thumb grazes my pulse point and pushes down as if emphasizing it.

“That I can do whatever I want.” His voice becomes raspy and it’s grabbing me in a chokehold, or maybe it’s his words.

Maybe it’s a combination of both.

Either way, I’m trapped in a state I’ve never experienced, and for the life of me, I can’t decide whether that’s good or bad.

All I know is that not knowing his name and deciding this is a one-time thing makes me lose all my inhibitions.

“You’ll let me, won’t you, beautiful?”

“Yeah…” I trail off because I wasn’t thinking when I agreed. Or maybe I haven’t been thinking during this whole night. I want to blame it on the alcohol, but who am I kidding? It’s not the vodka that’s flowing through my veins right now. It’s him.

Everything about him.

“Good.” He laps his tongue on the shell of my ear. “Now, tell me, are you a virgin?”

The sudden question freezes my limbs and causes my pulse to roar and throb in my veins, right beneath his hold.

“Why are you asking?” I speak so low, I’m surprised he can hear me.

“I don’t do virgins.”

“Why not?”

“They’re a hassle I don’t care for. Answer the question. Are you?”

“No,” I whisper and hope he takes it as if I’m too overwhelmed with sensations, not something else.

I think it works, because he’s pushing his knee between my thighs. “Open your legs.”

It’s nearly impossible to do so with his presence at my back, possessing me, holding me hostage, but I manage to shuffle my legs a little.

Still holding my nape with one hand, his other one reaches under my dress and I release a gasp when he cups my needy core.

“Fuck. You came ready.”

My nerve endings pulse at the arousal in his tone, at how absolutely sinful he sounds when he’s taken off guard.