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I smack my hand against a wall and he pulls my chin up.
“Fuck,” he says. And his mouth crashes down on mine.
I try to pull away. I don’t want to kiss him, I swear I don’t. But my stupid mouth has other ideas. Endorphins rush to that kiss, and suddenly my lips part for him and his tongue’s there, stroking mine, dancing with it. His mouth is hot on mine, his deviant tongue tasting of scotch and temptation and lust.
He tastes like bad choices and wicked delights, and I melt into him, eagerly kissing him back.
When he finally stops, I put my hands on his chest to force him back, but he only surges farther into me, backing me into the wall, and he’s hard. The fucker’s hard, just like I know I’m wet because I’m a total headcase and glutton for punishment.
Pun very much intended.
“Malone, please don’t… please…”
“Baby Red,” he murmurs as his mouth drops small kisses on mine. “You know what I am. But I can still play.”
“It’s poker, you can’t guarantee you can win. And I don’t—I don’t want them touching me.”
His fingers move down my side, then they slide under the hem of my dress and up between my thighs. “Are you sure?”
“I’m wet,” I say, pushing out the words and hating them as they hit the air, “because of you. I wish to God I wasn’t. You’re a monster.”
“But one who gets you hot. I bet if I asked, you’d get on your knees and suck me, right here. Right now.”
I would. We both know I would. I don’t know what kind of hold he has on me. I want to chalk it up to him opening and expanding my sexual horizons, showing me the things I never knew I liked. And I know… I know if he invited someone into the bedroom with us, I’d do whatever he wanted, but this? Those men?
Never.
Except if he loses, he’s giving me to them.
This is the man who was sweet to my cousin. The man who?—
Dammit. Stop. Just because he was nice to her and told me his sad story doesn’t make him a good man. And it doesn’t mean there’s not another agenda hiding under his layered surface, no matter what he tries to feed me.
There are secrets.
I can feel them shift when I touch him.
Like I’m somehow tuned into the very depths of him.
And I want to uncover them almost as badly as I want him.
“If I do that,” I say. “If I get on my knees, will you promise not to give me to them?”
“I think we can do better than you on your knees, Scarlett.”
He grabs me and flips me around so my face is against the wall. This time he pulls up my dress and yanks my lacy scrap of panties to one side.
Then his cock is there, grazing my slit. His big, beautiful cock. My heart leaps into my throat when he thrusts into me, fucking me hard, fast, brutal. I slam into the wall, my hands on either side of my face as I choke back the moans that threaten to escape. With each push deeper, I can feel that perfect stretch, the way I mold to fit around him. He hits something delicious at this angle, and when he pulls out, I whimper, needing him back where he belongs, deep inside of me.
“Touch yourself, Scarlett.”
I reach down and start to rub my clit, and everything happens at once. I come so hard I scream, not that anyone other than him can hear me.
“Fuck yes, I love it when you scream, Red.” He fucks me again, hammering hard through the spasms, a slew of filth coming from him.
“When your cunt squeezes me, it’s like it’s trying to swallow my dick. You were made to be fucked like a little whore. When we get home, I’m going to tie you up, take your ass, and just before you come, I’m going to pull out, making you suffer. And then I’m going to paint you in my cum. I’m going to fuck you so hard that you can’t walk afterward. And then I’m taking you all over again.”
He slams into me until his cock twitches, the hot liquid spurts of his cum hit my insides deep and I explode into a second orgasm around him.
