Page 9 of Perfect Satisfaction

“If you lay a hand on me before we’re safely locked inside my room, we’ll be arrested for public indecency,” Arek warns me.

“Hmm. A problem you’ve run into before?”

“No, something I’ve written about before.”

I fall against the wall in hysterics. “You’ve got to be kidding me? Do people have so little control?”

Arek’s brow kicks up. Then he crosses the small space in a few short strides before he has my back pinned with just his warm chest against the glass. He is so intently focused on my lips, I feel them part of their own accord. “Taste me,” I breathe.

“Fuck,” he growls before he lowers his head.

There’s nothing to grab onto as my breath is stolen by his lips. His kiss is all the sevens hitting on every slot simultaneously. It’s the chance in a lifetime no one expects.

It’s the gamble I never planned on taking, not with my family history.

The arc of energy I felt on the plane wasn’t a hint of what was coming, it was more of a warning. The way his lips imprison mine, feasting on them while not touching me, raises goose bumps along my skin.

If his kiss alone makes me this hungry, what will his touch do to me? The thought careens wildly through my mind as the elevator slows before a subtle chime informs we’ve arrived at his floor.

I guess I’m about to find out.

Arek steps back and holds out his hand, still giving me a choice. He has no idea what this simple gesture means. It empties me of the last vestiges of concern. This is right. For however long it lasts, it’s meant to be.

I take his outstretched hand and follow him off the elevator.

His erection pushes against the curve of my ass, increasing the hunger that began to pulse inside me from the moment he walked into the club. His lips graze my shoulder as he cups my breasts from behind, rough fingers twisting the nipples.

Our clothes long discarded, the sensation causes me to arch into his hands more fully, moaning his name, “Arek.”

“Shh, Sula. We have all night.” He nips the exposed base of my neck. Walking me toward the enormous bed, I find myself pushed forward until my breasts meet the downy comforter, and there’s nothing but his hardness resting alongside me.

Stroking between my legs. Fanning the flames of heat between us higher.

Hotter.

Faster.

I roll away, not because I don’t want him but because I want to experience everything. Need to feel him on me, over me.

Arek prowls until my breasts are nestled against his hair-roughened chest, making me feel small. Delicate. Powerful.

Womanly.

“Clothing is a crime on a man like you,” I declare breathlessly.

His response is to stretch my arms up as high as they can go before dragging his fingers over the sensitive underside, down across my torso. He sits back on his haunches between my legs, still grazing my skin until he reaches theVbetween my legs.

My breath hitches when he uses his thumbs to press apart my folds before wickedly stroking my clit with one hand and teasing my core with the other.

I pant. Whether it’s my moans or his own diabolical fiendishness, he continues to drive me higher until I’m begging, “Arek, please.”

“No. Give me more,” he growls.

I’ve never reached this height with a lover. My mind falters when he slides down in the bed and drapes my legs over his shoulders. He begins to feast on me like I’m an addiction, ceaselessly. He doesn’t let up even as I rock myself to his mouth, shamelessly rubbing against his lips. Trying to get off.

Needing it, needing him.

There’s no way to prevent the moan that burns the back of my throat as I shudder to completion. Judging by the feral look on his face, he wouldn’t want me to. He’d want to hear every noise I make.