Resisting Mr. Kane (London Mister #2)(54)

I coax him away from the dresser to the centre of the room. If he looks closely, he’ll spot the premium bamboo rolls stolen from Madison Legal.

“The perils of a London house-share.” I shrug and let out a pathetic giggle. Standing here with Tristan Kane in my bedroom is turning me into a hot nervous mess.

When he draws himself up to his full six-foot-four height he knocks into the light fixture.

“And this isn’t your bed?” He hovers above it like it’s been dispatched from a nuclear power plant.

“No, the room came furnished,” I explain. “Only the armchair and the dresser are mine. Why?”

“Do you know how many people have had sex on this bed?”

I give him a withering look. “Sorry, I didn’t think to ask the estate agent.”

“No wonder you sleep in linen closets,” he mutters. “We don’t know how many people have used this bed. It’s like having sex in a brothel.”

“Hey!” I whack him against the chest. “I’ve got a mattress topper. That’s what renters do, we buy mattress toppers and don’t think about all the renters that came before us.” I roll my eyes. “Try to search within yourself to find a modicum of reality, will you? Have you forgotten how normal non-CEO people live?”

“Can we have sex standing up?”

“You are acting like the princess and the pea.” I glower, putting both hands on my hips. “And you are being very presumptuous. Who said I want to have sex with you, anyway?”

He smirks down at me. “Of course you do. I’ll get you so steamed up you’ll be begging for me to fuck you.”

That arrogant, infuriating, handsome face. He’s so confident in himself, so certain I’m a sure bet. It turns me on and annoys me in the same instant. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of joining the million girls that beg Tristan Kane to fuck them.

“As if. I don’t beg men.”

His eyes blaze as he steps into my personal space. Wrapping his hands around my waist, he pulls me in and presses me against his groin, his hardness jutting against my stomach.

My core flutters with excitement. I was bluffing before.

Of course, I’m going to let him fuck me.

I reach up on my tiptoes, and he comes down to meet me, pressing his lips against mine.

“I’m making a big mistake,” I whisper into his mouth.

“Boss’s orders. I guess you have to do as you’re told.”

He reaches behind my back and unzips my dress so that it hangs loosely around my shoulders, then pushes it down past my waist, exposing my black lace bra. I step out of it, standing before him in only underwear.

He responds with a growl and unclips my bra, sliding the silk straps down my arms. “That’s much better,” he says gruffly.

His massive hands cup my breasts possessively and he dips his head down to pinch my nipple with his teeth.

I make a desperate little mewl and fumble with the top of his jeans.

“Not yet,” he growls. Before I know what he’s doing, he lifts me off the floor and walks us both to the bed.

My whole body trembles in anticipation as he lays me down on the bed. I’m so ready, it’s embarrassing.

Glancing around the room, he walks to the dresser and lifts two satin scarfs I bought to dress up my work outfits.

“You’re fully clothed,” I pant as he approaches the bed again.

“I’m the boss. My rules.” His eyes roam over my body from above.

I spread my legs, willing him to come on top of me.

A grunt falls from his lips in response. He gently takes my wrists, pinning them above my head, and ties each one to the bedpost with a scarf. Then, he pulls down my underwear and climbs on top of me, his large thighs inching open my legs.

I’m naked, exposed, and his for the taking.

Heat flares in his eyes. “Beautiful,” he breathes. He leans down, caging my body with his biceps as his mouth trails hot kisses down my collarbone.

I arch my back and push up my breasts.

He’s taking his sweet time. He kisses the top of my breasts then travels down at a tortuous pace to just above my nipple. My nipples are so hard it hurts.

His tongue circles my nipple, and I moan impatiently.

“Please,” I whisper, my heels digging into the bed.

Heat pools between my legs as his mouth finally engulfs my nipple. He goes from nipple to nipple, pinching and sucking. Then he’s on the move again. Slowly his mouth trails down past my belly button to my lower stomach. His mouth hovers just above my apex.

My core muscles clench.

Using his thumbs, he gently pulls apart my sensitive folds of flesh. A feral sound rumbles from his throat as his eyes devour my most intimate parts.

I’m a mix of aroused and embarrassed. He can see everything. I wriggle, trying to set my hands free but he has them tightly tied. He’s in control. His tongue pushes deep into my entrance.

I arch my hips into his face, crying out.

As his tongue thrusts in and out relentlessly, his thumb circles around my clit, teasing me faster and faster.

My toes curl, and my legs shake; the pressure is too much.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I chant as he holds me in a firm grip, feasting on me. My head arches back towards the headboard.

“Elly,” he murmurs from between my legs. “I want you to watch.”