Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games Series Book 2) (18 page)

Connor groans softly into my mouth. With one hand under my butt, he lifts me and scoots me up onto the desk. Now my thighs are open around his waist and my robe has fallen away and his hands are buried in my hair and digging into the flesh of my bottom and I’m dizzy, so dizzy I think the room has started to spin.

My head drops back. I gasp for air. He moves his mouth to my neck, sucking and biting with just enough pressure to sting. I shudder with the pleasure of it, and my lips part on a moan.

He tears open my robe.

With a muttered oath, he takes my breast in his hand and sucks on my hard nipple.

Arching, I cry out. In one swift motion, he sweeps his arm across the desk behind me, shoving away the telephone, a stack of magazines, a cup filled with pens. In a clatter, they follow the lamp to the floor. Connor pushes me flat on my back on the desk. He ravishes my breasts, moving greedily back and forth between them, sucking, licking, biting, making hungry, masculine noises as if he’s tearing into a steak.

From somewhere far away, I hear myself moan his name. My fingers twist in his hair. My hips rock helplessly.

Then he throws my legs over his shoulders, puts his face between my thighs and starts to feast.

And something happens that’s never happened to me before.

My mind blinks offline.

It’s not a slammed door, or a blackness like a curtain pulled across a window. It’s a release, like when you let something heavy fall from your hands.

“Fuck me,” I demand. “
Now
.”

Connor looks up from between my trembling thighs. He licks his full lips. His black eyes are like an animal’s. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m clean. Are you?”

“As a fuckin’ whistle, princess.” Then he straightens, rips down his zipper, frees his stiff cock, and pushes it inside me.

I cry out. My back bows from the desk. I grip the edge of the desk to keep myself in place as Connor starts to thrust into me, his hands on my ass and his eyes on my face, those black animal eyes staring down like they want to devour me.

“Take off your shirt.”

He pauses for a fraction of a moment to comply, using one hand to grip his black T-shirt at the back of his neck and then drag it over his head. He tosses it away, and I’m treated to the sight of bronzed skin and hard abs and biceps that flex and bulge as he begins to thrust again. With every move, his dog tags glint in the light.

“You’re beautiful, jarhead,” I say brokenly.

He pants, “I’m yours, princess.”

With a painful burst, my heart fragments into a million jagged pieces.

The world fades to nothing but sensation. The push and drag of his body inside mine, his heat, weight, and scent, the sound of our labored breaths, flesh against flesh, the complaining groan of the desk beneath me.

The taste of all I can never have bittersweet on my tongue.

With a helpless cry of surrender, I close my eyes and disappear.

T
abby’s orgasm
is so abrupt, the force of it so violent, for a moment I’m stunned into motionless shock.

She’s strong, with the thighs of a runner, a taut figure honed by what must be countless hours of the practice of Krav Maga, and so the flex of her legs around my waist is no small thing. But really it’s her abandon that takes my breath away. The change that transforms her from one second to the next. The new way she gives herself to me, as if all her walls are crumbling, all the brakes have been stripped, everything she’s been holding back has broken through and is flooding her at once.

As if she’s finally
here
.

With this woman, you’re always dealing first and foremost with her formidable mind. The force of it is evident in every look. She’s beautiful, yes, blatantly, but the razor-sharp edge of her intellect gives her a prickly, untouchable quality. The rose is there in full bloom for you to admire, but watch out for those enormous thorns. They’re full of venom and have a taste for blood.

But this new woman beneath me now,
this
woman is all emotion. All head-tossing, passionate abandon. She’s writhing like a demon on my cock and begging me to fuck her, fuck her harder, and I’m three seconds away from losing control. So I do the only thing I can.

Slow it down.

I lift her, wrapping my arms around her back, and carry her over to the bed.

She moans as our bodies briefly disengage, then again, louder, as I lower her to the mattress, spread her legs, and gently push back inside her. She flings her arms and legs around me, turns her face to my neck, and shudders.

“Deeper,” she pleads, sounding desperate. “Harder. More, Connor.
More!
”

“I don’t want to come yet, sweetheart,” I murmur. Sheathed deep inside her, my cock throbs.

“He does.” She wriggles her hips.

I growl and then kiss her deeply, still not moving my pelvis.

She starts to rock underneath me, flexing her hips so my cock slides in and out as she moves. I hiss in a breath at the feeling, my balls tightening, sweat breaking out on my chest.

Tabby digs her fingers into my ass and bites me on the neck.

I can’t help myself. I thrust into her, hard, a groan torn from my throat.

She makes an encouraging sound. Her bite gentles to a suck, her hands glide up my back. Her nipples skim my chest, twin points of pebbled flesh that need my mouth, and so I give it to them.

Tabby moans, bucking. “Yes,” she breathes, eyes squeezed shut. “Oh God, Connor, yes.”

Hot, concentrated pleasure coils at the base of my cock, an ache that pulses through my entire lower body. My thrusts become deeper, less controlled. My breathing turns to grunts and broken groans. She’s so wet I feel it on my thighs, and something about that drives me insane with lust.

I release her nipple, grab her by the hair, and thrust my tongue into her mouth. I hold her head in place as I fuck her pussy and her mouth, driving deep, feeling the last of my control begin to unwind, only vaguely aware of the hollow echo of the headboard slamming against the wall.

“No—you can’t—in my mouth,” she pants, breaking free.

Dazed as I am, I don’t understand for a moment, but then with a push she rolls out from under me, flips around, shoves me to my back, straddles my face, and swallows my cock.

I lose myself. Thought ceases. My body strains up against her mouth. The sound of pleasure that breaks from my chest is loud and raw.

She draws up, sucking, and then furls her tongue around the head. Making a humming sound in her throat as if she’s pleased with me, how I taste and feel in her mouth, she lowers her head again and opens her throat so my entire cock is bathed in wet heat, all the way down to the base.

When she gently squeezes my balls, I bury my face into her pussy and unleash my tongue.

She squeals and shudders. I hold her tight against me with my forearms locked at her waist, my hands spread over her ass, and suckle her swollen clit. She starts a breathtaking assault on my cock, up and down, sucking relentlessly, falling into rhythm with my desperate upward thrusts.

I hold on with sheer force of will. The impulse to release pounds through me, growing with every stroke of her clever tongue, but I won’t let go until she does. I can tell by the trembling in her body, her noises and breathing, that she’s close.

I slide a hand down the curve of her ass and slip a finger into her wetness. She moans around my cock, an incredible sensation I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I let her ride my tongue and finger for a moment longer, feeling the tension in her cresting, almost ready to break, and then wet the thumb of my other hand.

I press it against the tight pink calyx between the cleft in her cheeks and push.

She comes almost instantly, shuddering and mewing, bucking against my mouth, completely abandoned to her pleasure. Her fist tightens around the base of my cock, stroking now in tandem with her tongue, and finally I can’t hold on anymore.

My orgasm is an explosion, ripping through me, tearing me apart. Wave after wave after wave and I’m convulsing, moaning into her spread legs, fucking her mouth and eating her gorgeous pussy, knowing in some abandoned part of my soul there will never be anything as perfectly perfect as—

Her.

Us.

This
.

* * *

A
fterward
, we lie in each other’s arms, stunned and silent, staring at the ceiling.

Finally, Tabby whispers, “Wow.”

I turn my head on the pillow and look at her. A grin spreads over my face. “You’re speechless, right?”

She sends me a sideways warning glance. “If you say ‘I have that effect on all the ladies,’ I’ll be forced to do something violent.” She pauses. “I can’t think of what exactly because my brain is taking a nice oxytocin and dopamine bath at the moment. But it will be bad, believe me.”

I roll to my side, gather her against me, and nuzzle my face into her hair, inhaling her sweet scent. “I’ll die happy, though.” My voice comes out thick, and for a second, I’m worried I’ve ruined this incredible moment by being a dumb, sappy fuck.

Her legs tangle between mine. When she settles into my embrace, sighing contentedly, my worry eases.

After another moment, her voice drowsy and sated, she asks, “You have kind of a butt thing, don’t you?”

I burst out laughing. She raises her head and looks at me, a brow quirked.

I roll her to her back and throw my leg over her, relishing the simple fact that I can. “I have a thing for
your
butt, to be specific, yes,” I answer, grinning down at her.

Her cheeks flush. She turns her head and lowers her eyes, but I can see she’s pleased.

A thought occurs to me. “Would you want me to—”

“Fuck me in the ass?” she asks innocently.

I almost choke. “Jesus!” I say, racked with laughter. “Give a guy a second to make his point, would you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh please, don’t tell me you’re shocked Mr. ‘I’m gonna get you naked and eat your pussy like it’s the last supper.’ That’s practically sacrilegious.”

It’s my turn to pretend innocence. “I’d never say a thing like that to a delicate flower such as yourself.”

Tabby smiles, curling her toes around the back of my calf. “Oh, but you would. And worse. And I love every second of it, by the way.”

Love
. It hangs in the air for a moment. We look at each other, breathless, and then Tabby looks away.

She stammers, “I-I…um, we should probably get going—”

“Look at me.” When she doesn’t, I take her face in my hand. “Tabby. Look at me.”

The old tension in her has returned with a cold snap. I know she’s hating herself for that slip, hating that we both noticed it, the elephant that’s appeared like magic in the room.

She wants to push the elephant out the window. I want to invite it to stay for a drink.

Or forever.

I run my thumb over her lips. She closes her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not going to let me pretend I didn’t say that?”

I gently kiss her jaw, her cheek, the curve of her eyebrow. “Because I’m not.”

“It was just a figure of speech. A random choice of words.”

I whisper, “You’d like to think it was, wouldn’t you?”

She’s getting frustrated, fidgeting underneath me like she wants to bolt and run. “Let me up.”

“No.”

“Connor—”

Into her ear, I say very deliberately, “You can love how I talk to you without having to commit the rest of your life to me, princess.”

She stills. The color is high in her cheeks. Her heart is pounding.

My heart is melting like a fucking ice cube in the sun.

“It doesn’t have to be a four-letter word between us. Okay?”

Her lips twist. “Except it
is
a four-letter word.”

“Hmm. You’re right. Maybe we should add a letter to get us out of the danger zone if you feel the need to use the word again.”

She glances at me warily, her cheeks still red.

“To describe how you feel about my sexual prowess, of course.”

She groans. “God. I’ve created a monster.”

Ignoring that, I muse, “How about…slove. ‘I slove the way you talk to me.’” Then I make a face. “No. That’s weird.”

Tabby covers her face with a hand. “This is
all
weird!”

For whatever bizarre reason, this conversation is making me hard again. I guess my dick is as excited about Tabby’s Freudian slip as I am. “What about this: ‘glove.’ That’s an actual word so it’s not as weird. ‘Connor, I absolutely
glove
that enormous cock of yours! Will you please let me lick it again?’”

In spite of herself, Tabby laughs. She tries to smother it, keep her lips pressed together, but her body shakes with the effort.

“Too obvious? You’re right. It should be something no one else would recognize. Our little code word, don’t you think? Something that won’t give it away if you accidentally slip and say it in front of anyone else.” I think for a moment, and then pronounce, “Loathe!”

Tabby looks at me like I’m a nut job. “What?”

“Loathe. It’s got three of the same letters as love but it’s the
opposite
, so it’ll make you feel really happy when you’re saying it since you can’t stand me and everything. For instance, ‘Connor, I loathe your sense of humor as much as I loathe your face!’ It’s genius, right?”

Beaming, I look at her for confirmation. She’s doing this adorable thing where she’s laughing and groaning and shaking her head, all at once. “You’re crazy!”

I give her a soft bite on her neck. “I was fine before I met you, princess. Now look at me. I need a straitjacket.”

She freezes.

“What is it?”

She blinks rapidly, swallowing, the color draining from her face. “What? Nothing.”

“Yeah,” I say drily, “I’m calling bullshit on that, sweetheart. Spill.”

With sudden vehemence, Tabby snaps, “We don’t have to talk about
everything
!”

She shoves me in the chest, hard, and leaps from the bed, leaving me stunned by the sudden change in her mood.

I watch her stalk around the room, snatching up the clothes she’d left hanging over the arm of the sofa and the back of the chair, muttering something under her breath.

“You’re giving me whiplash here, princess.”

“Well, deal with it,” she says, dragging her T-shirt over her head. She stops and looks down at herself, mutters, “Fuck,” and tears the T-shirt off. She storms over to her suitcase lying open on a folding luggage rack against the wall. She rummages through it, tossing clothes aside, and then pulls out a pair of black leather pants I recognize.

I sit up in bed and drag a hand through my hair. “Not the armor again,” I say wearily, watching her get dressed.

She barely glances at me. In less time than I’ve seen some bullets hit a target, she’s dressed and pulling on her combat boots.

And I know our little oasis of happiness has vanished like the mirage it was.

I rise, and dress quickly and silently. Then I hear a small electronic alarm chirping somewhere in the room and cock an ear toward the sound. “What’s that?”

Tabby pulls up short. “It’s my phone.” She bolts over to the dresser, snatches up her cell, and stares down at it. When she looks at me, there’s something wild in her eyes. “The traceback program,” she whispers. “It’s compiled its report.”

“Well then,” I say, a brick inside my stomach. “I guess it’s time to go.”

We stare at each other silently across the room, until Tabby nods.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

She turns to leave. I have no choice but to follow.