Bartered (The Encounter #1)(39)

Hugo wasn’t ready to let go of the subject yet. “What is really wrong with you?” he queried on.

“You!” I admitted without thought, barely catching myself because my emotions were rolling off me. “You’re what’s wrong with me. You’re a notorious flirt, and you don’t give a damn that I was there, watching it all happen!”

He suddenly looked serious, eyes seeking my own. “I apologize. I hadn’t realized that you were jealous and hurt by my actions.”

“I am not jealous!” I hissed out, immediately denying it. It wasn’t jealousy. It was being disrespected more like…

“You’re acting like you are.”

“Well, I’m not,” I stated succinctly. “Why should I be? I don’t love you—you’re not Damen.”

His eyes were like black diamonds, glittering, beautiful, bottomless depths, but his temper was apparent in them. “I’m very well aware that I’m not Damen!” he gritted out, almost yelling.

I raised my hands, surrendering this bloody argument that kept going in circles. “This is stupid. Let’s forget that this conversation ever happened. I’m just having a rough day, is all.”

Black diamonds flickered back and forth, seeking for my soul. “All right,” he finally uttered, sounding tired.

All right? Nothing will ever be okay again, and it petrified me.

“I don’t get you. One second, you’re a total wanker, and then, in the blink of an eye, you’re a kind gentleman. Which one are you, because I’m beyond confused?”

“I’m the same man you first met. I’m the same man who fancies a quick f*uk whenever I feel like it. When my cock springs to life, I put it in action. You very well know that I’m ruthless, that I have the tendency to be despicable, and yet you somehow melt towards me when I kiss you. I’m a wicked temptation that you want to try and taste, even though you’re telling yourself that I’m an obligation.” He was relentless. “Admit it, you like me, even just a little.” His breathtaking smile blinded me from my senses. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, maybe I do like you… a little,” I muttered with a blush.

His dashing smile immediately vanished from his face before something of meaning replaced it. Then, before I had the chance to ask him what it was, he determinedly savored my lips, kissing them as though they were a delicious treat to taste, slowly, eagerly, melting my core and every ounce of my common sense.

Consumed by the fire that had overtaken us, engulfing us in flames as our mouths devoured one another, little did I notice that he was pressing against my body, backing me against the wall of the tub while my legs had somehow parted to accommodate him. The majestic feeling of awe at having him this way was overruling everything I had told myself not to do. My hands caressed his chest before I cupped them behind his head as I pulled him closer to me. I wanted him so badly, and he felt divine. God help me.

His hands squeezed my breasts before they explored between my thighs. Then I unexpectedly felt him pinch my clit; thus making me spasm in his arms. His digits kept exploring my pu**y, but he never dared insert anything in me. I admired his control… until I felt him. His hard and hot, turgid length teasing my clit, gliding and thrusting back and forth.

“Hell, Hugo!” I moaned from the explicit pleasure that seized my body from the sheer, intimate contact of him.

“Does this feel like Damen to you?” he demanded before he bit the side of my neck, making me scream and moan like I had never done before.

f*uk, this was truly different from what I’d experienced with Damen.

“Definitely…” I stuttered, “not.”

Damen’s lovemaking was different. This? Whatever this was between us, it was savage.

It drew out our animalistic sides—the mating, the banter, the possessiveness. We circled around on our baser instincts and senses.

It was as vulgar as it was exquisite.

Vulgarly, undoubtedly, exceptionally exquisite.





Chapter 22


Hugo



“Does this feel like Damen to you?” I barked it out arrogantly, knowing well enough that her delighted reaction to our delicious body friction was a resounding no, but I still went ahead and demanded the question because I wanted her to say it out loud. I needed her to say it, a confirmation uttered from her own lecherous lips.

Her moans were driving me wickedly mad. This hunger to drive her over the edge, into a pleasurable abyss, made me bite her neck. The animalistic rawness of a bite on a woman’s delicate neck never failed to produce unparalleled pleasure, certainly making them much more pliable for our intentions.

Just as expected, Isobel produced a scream the second my teeth sunk into her sensitized flesh. It was a sound that made men fall on their knees and indulge the goddess in whatever she desired. A scream that made my cock angry to the point of explosion because it wanted entry to her safe haven.

“Definitely”—she panted incoherently—“not.” She sounded lost, suspended from reality while my body did its purpose in delivering her to a place that was the closest a person could be to nirvana. The urge was potent to keep her there, detached from her thoughts, only able to feel. Feel the euphoria I was granting her. Feel how amazing things could be between us if she decided to pursue this road of sensuality with me.