The Dating Plan(72)
Liam grabbed the keys and within moments they were in a dingy office with a metal desk, a worn chair, and a few half-empty shelves.
She didn’t know who moved first. One minute they were tumbling in the door, and the next she was in his arms. His mouth crashed down on hers, his hands sliding down her back to her ass, pulling her tightly against his hips. Her mouth opened for the kiss, fingers threading through his soft, thick hair.
Their tongues touched and electricity zipped through her body like a bolt of lightning, firing every nerve ending. Drunk on a cocktail of lust, alcohol, and the adrenaline rush of quiz night, that one touch made it impossible to pull away. Instead, she pulled him closer, pressing her breasts against his chest, shameless in her desire to feel every inch of his body against hers.
A groan rumbled from his chest, and he lifted her against him. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she rocked against the bulge beneath his jeans. The world faded away and she was lost in a sea of sensation—the taste of whiskey on his tongue, the rock hard muscles beneath her hands, the pure heat of his body against hers, the sound of their panting breaths, the glimpse of the Liam she remembered beneath the hooded eyes.
“Condom?”
“Got one.” Still holding her with one strong arm, he dug into his back pocket.
“Door?”
“Locked.”
“Belt?”
“I’ve run out of hands.” He released her and she jumped down and yanked on his belt.
“I hope you weren’t lying about wearing no pants.” He lifted her dress and groaned. “Captain America? Couldn’t you have gone for someone less wholesome?”
“I wasn’t planning on sexing it up in the back room of a bar when I got dressed this morning.”
Liam leaned down and nuzzled her neck. “Anytime you’re with me, you should expect to be ravished. Come prepared. Leave the Avengers at home.”
“What happened to just once?” She yanked open his fly and slid her hand inside his jeans to stroke his shaft beneath his boxers.
Liam hissed in a breath and gently pulled her hand away. “Once at home. Once at the bar . . .” He dropped to his knees, his warm hands slipping under her dress to ease her underwear over her hips. With one hand offering her support, he helped her step out of them like the gentleman ravisher he was.
“We have ten minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” she whispered as he rolled on the condom.
“You’re sexy when you keep time in your head.” Still on his knees, he pressed her legs apart. “Open for me, my timekeeping seductress.”
“We don’t have . . .” Her words died away when she felt the heat of his mouth, the slow, sensual strokes of his tongue, the rub of his unshaven jaw against the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her pulse hammered and she sank her fingers into his scalp, holding him in place.
He took his time, stoking her desire with a steady seduction, licking, teasing, his tongue everywhere except where she needed it to go. She sank against the door, gave herself over to the long, liquid wave of pleasure, the firm grip of his hands on her thighs, the exquisite sensation of his tongue sliding over her most sensitive spot.
When he slid a thick finger deep inside her, and then another, she moaned, certain the ground was quaking beneath her feet. His mouth went from light and gentle to hot and demanding, and she rocked her hips against him, trying to soothe the wicked ache between her thighs.
She came in a rush, fisting his hair, her vision narrowing, breath lost to the exquisite pleasure of giving her body over to pure physical sensation.
Liam surged up as she rode the aftershocks of ecstasy. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her, bracing her back against the door. She locked her legs around his hips and crushed her mouth to his in a fevered kiss.
This was what she wanted, these wild sensations, frenzied need, liquid fire in her veins. She wanted to lose control, to stop thinking, to do nothing but feel.
He savaged her throat with hungry kisses, ground his hardened length against her slick, wet heat. Her pulse pounded in her ears, throbbed at the juncture of her thighs. She arched against him, rocked her hips, demanding his possession.
“Liam. Don’t tease.”
With a low, guttural groan, he shoved his boxers down and positioned himself at her entrance. “Say my name.”
She knew instantly what he wanted. Not his name. Their name. Their secret. “Humraaz,” she whispered. “My humraaz.”
With a satisfied growl, he pushed inside her, one hand under her ass, the other braced against the door beside her head.
“Oh!” Daisy tilted her hips, allowing him to sink deeper with every thrust. She was flying, high on being bad, on breaking the rules and loving it, on following Liam into the abyss and knowing she would survive.
“Ask me for it.” His brow furrowed, his face a mask of concentration as his body moved in a timeless rhythm. “I want to give you everything.”
“Fuck me.” Dirty words. Filthy words. But this time there were no better words in the English language to tell him what she wanted.
Sweat beaded his brow and he hammered into her, his warm breath rasping against her cheek. She came without warning, without realizing she’d tipped over the edge until she heard her own voice cry out, the sound echoing in the empty room.
Liam kept moving, pressed her against the door, his groans intensifying with his thrusts, body tensed and straining. He followed her over the edge, holding her tight, his shaft pulsing deep inside her.