Black Heart (Cursed Hearts #1)(32)

She sighed, “It’s a guy I met with my friends at a bar the other night.”

“Does this guy have a name?”

“Roger.”

“Roger what?” he demanded.

Another annoyed sigh, “Roger Arnold.”

He chuckled darkly behind her. “You got all dressed up to go out with Roger Arnold?”

No, it was for Tristan, but she’d used the date as an excuse to dress up for work today. “Yes.”

“You must like him a great deal to dress up like this,” he said, his tone laced with acid. “Do you like him a lot then, Marty?”

She adjusted uncomfortably and moved to get off his lap, but he held her prisoner where she was. “I think we should just focus on work. This is too personal.”

“How is it too personal for two old friends to chat? Or even for two co-workers who share an office to discuss their plans for the evening?” His tone was hard and dangerous, sending shivers down her spine. This wasn’t going to end well for her. For some strange reason she felt as though she’d finally pushed him too far.

When she didn’t answer he continued. “So you don’t feel like talking?”

She shook her head.

“Then can I ask a question?”

“I guess,” she said quietly.

He carefully flicked a dangling strand of her hair. “You did your hair up like this for him?”

No. “Yes.”

“Uh huh…I see….” He ran his nose over her neck and inhaled. “And this lotion you used. What is it? Blackberries and vanilla?” She nodded. “You used it for him?”

No. “Yes.”

Both of his large hands spanned her stomach and tenderly caressed the area. “And this blouse that’s been driving me crazy all day, that was for him, too?” he punctuated the question by pressing a soft kiss against her neck.

What did he ask? It took her a moment to think through her lust induced fog to figure out what he’d just asked her. Oh, that’s right. “Yes.”

He flattened his hands on her stomach and moved them purposely down and over her h*ps and then down her legs until they were cupping her knees.

“And the skirt? Was that for him as well?” he asked as he leaned back in the chair, taking her with him until she was practically draped over him. His hands slid up and cupped her thighs while his mouth gently sucked on her neck.

She closed her eyes and licked her lips as he kissed, sucked and licked her neck. They were both panting heavily, but he refused to give her any quarter from his sensual attack. He adjusted his legs until they were suddenly between both of hers and then widened them, opening her legs wider. The action pushed her skirt all the way up to her hips, but she barely noticed. His mouth felt so good on her skin.

He knew that he should stop, but he couldn’t. She had no business going out with any guy while he was alive. She was his! Fuck doing the right thing. Where had that ever gotten him? He wanted her and he was sick of torturing himself so that she could waste her time on losers who didn't deserve to breathe the same air as her. She was his. He’d always known that and he was done with pretending that she wasn’t.

“What color panties did you wear for him?” he whispered against her ear then sucked on the lobe, earning a low moan.

“Black.” For you, she thought.

“Mmm,” he moaned against her skin while his tongue made a wet trail back to the spot on her neck where he’d been suckling her and continued. He shifted in the chair and widened her legs further. His hands slowly moved up her thighs, hooking his fingers in her skirt and tugging it up a few more inches. One hand remained behind while the other moved up her stomach and traced her ribs until it slid up and cupped her breast the same time that his other hand dipped between her legs. He cupped her through her panties.

“Oh, God…,” she choked out a moan, unable to stop herself.

Tristan broke out in a sweat as his fingers traced her damp panties. So many nights of fantasizing about touching her. He pressed a reverent kiss to her neck while one finger snaked beneath her panties and pulled them aside. He was glad that he couldn’t see what he’d revealed, afraid he’d embarrass himself.

Not that he had much experience with women. He didn’t and shouldn’t know how to navigate her body this way, but something about touching her this way made him feel as though he’d done it a hundred times before. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the connection he felt with her or years of fantasies, but he knew, just knew, what she liked and what she didn’t.

Without having to ask, he knew that she hated having her ni**les teased with his teeth. It reminded her of rough fabric and turned her off quickly. She loved it when he used his tongue on her and he knew that if he did it just right that she would come a hell of a lot faster and harder. He also knew that she hated having her feet touched or any teasing touches on the side of stomach during sex, because it would make her giggle. He also knew what it would do to her if he focused solely on her clit. She’d thrash under his mouth, screaming at him to f**k her even as she threatened to kill him if he even thought about stopping.

It should worry him that he knew what she liked in bed, but he didn’t care. He’d already decided that he was going to use this knowledge to his advantage and enjoy every second of it. His fingers pinched her hard nipple through the material as he teased her bare slit with his fingers. She was so goddamn wet that he had to grit his teeth as pleasure shot through his painful erection.