Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)(30)

“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest and hardened his jaw, the move striking her as…self-conscious? Austin? “Do they bother you?”

Yes. Yes. But not for the reason they should. The scars had almost certainly been put there by women he’d been playing, conning…and yet her anger didn’t stem from that knowledge. It bothered her that he bore any reminders of other encounters or other places in time, when this moment was theirs. The sexually inexperienced part of her wanted to call it off, but it was overruled by an unbreakable will she’d never been aware of deep within her bones. So he had marks from other women? Those women weren’t here now. She was. And unlike the others, she had the distinct advantage of being in the know.

No games.

Polly lifted her knee onto the bed and knelt behind Austin, not understanding the compulsion to kiss his back, but following through in the spirit of not holding back. Being incapable of it in the face of such freedom to explore. His hot skin shuddered beneath her lips, muscles going whip-tight. She aligned their bodies, molding herself to the curve of his ass, feeling her way around to his front with both hands. The fingers of both hands met at his belt buckle, pausing in their actions when he heaved a masculine moan.

“No. Dammit, don’t stop.” His head fell back on his shoulders. “I could come just knowing you’re about to unzip my pants.”

The raw desperation and honesty in his voice, despite the Southern accent he’d just managed to maintain, was inebriating. Her limbs turned limber and heavy at the same time, excitement rising like dense steam to cloud her thoughts. “I’m going to do more than unzip your pants.” She tugged the leather of his belt through the pant loops, letting it fall to the bed. “Can you handle it?”

“Try me,” Austin grated. “Try me hard.”

Holy God. Wet heat gathered between her thighs, but instead of pressing her legs together to ease the sensual pressure, she positioned them wider, allowing herself a moment to writhe her hips against his bottom. Her fingers worked of their own power, unbuttoning Austin’s pants and lowering the zipper. She was still unzipping when his erection pushed through the opening, obscenely long and…plump, a description she never would have expected to apply to any part of Austin. She’d caught a brief glimpse of his manhood that morning in his bathroom, but holding him was an entirely different experience. His aroused flesh weighed down her closed fist, seeming to grow heavier, thicker, as she massaged him from behind.

Again, it became apparent that Austin wasn’t breathing, his body gone stock-still against her. Unable to push coherent words past her lips, Polly let them whisper over his neck, bathing the spot with her tongue. His body jerked on a rough intake of oxygen. “Y-you h-have to breathe,” she forced out.

“I’m trying.” His hips pumped into her grip. “It’s just that it never felt…good before when someone else did it. I hated when they touched me.”

Somewhere in her passion-clouded brain, everything clicked together. Later, she would rebel against the overwhelming sense of understanding, sympathy for a con man who’d mistreated women, but claimed he hadn’t enjoyed doing it. Later, she would scoff at her moment of weakness and loss of reason, but not now. Now all she could do was whisper words of comfort into his hair, hold his erection tighter in her fist. Stroke him faster. I make him feel good. Me. No one else.

“Polly…” He broke off on a groan. “If you want me hard for your *, you have to stop jacking me. Otherwise, I’m going to paint the f*cking wall.”

That was what she’d been working toward, wasn’t it? Somehow his loss of composure had become the most important aspect of her existence, transcending all else. But she couldn’t allow her eagerness to see him shatter end this so soon. Biting her lip until pain bloomed, Polly released his arousal and…picked up the belt. She stared down at the expensive leather object, her calculating mind colliding with lust to formulate bad plans. Hot, naughty plans that should have seemed foreign, but perhaps had only been lurking in the background.

“Do it. Whatever you’re thinking of doing with that belt, do it.” Austin’s body vibrated with unconcealed anticipation, all traces of the phony accent a thing of the past. Everything was a thing of the past. “I can take it. I need to take it.” His gaze was penetrative when he delivered a blistering look over his shoulder. “We both know I deserve it. Are you going to show me the error of my ways, Mistress? Or not?”

Thunderclaps boomed in her ears, the belt’s weight feeling like a live electrical current in her palm. With her free hand, Polly wrenched Austin’s pants down to his knees, exposing his backside, which was as cocky and breathtaking as the rest of him. She knew what he expected. Now seemed a good time to let him know she’d never provide him with the predictable.

Polly walked on her knees around Austin to face him, blasted by the bridled intensity shooting from him like sparks. Ready to snap, but equally determined not to give in. The conflict was all there in his burning eyes. Amazing man. She let her focus drop to his erection, dense and capable of pulverizing where it strained against his belly.

“All yours. You’ve been its cruel keeper for months.” He tilted his hips, presenting himself to her in a way that should have been crude, but on Austin, it was all animal grace. “At any time at all, you could have demanded me. Sent me to my knees to lick you off with one word. Grabbed my cock through my pants in front of everyone and told them who it belonged to.” His eyelids drooped as if the scenario was an aphrodisiac. “Please yourself with me, Polly. My body. My cock. Own it all.”