“I know, but it’s so fun.”
“You want fun, huh? I’ll give you fun, Noelle.” He spins me and shoves me back onto my bed.
I clap my hand over my mouth as a scream leaves me when I go backward. A shadow falls over me as he leans over my body, grabs my wrists, and secures them above my head with one strong hand. I breathe in sharply at the rough move even as a jolt of pleasure flies through my bloodstream, leaving a fiery trail behind that.
“Fun,” he mutters, a darkly sexy smile on his lips. “No, fun is forcing that agreement off the tip of your tongue where it got stuck, sweetheart. But, because I’m a nice guy, I’m gonna give you one last chance to admit that you’re mine before I flip you over and fuck it out of you.”
I look up at him, ignoring the way my clit is throbbing at the brush of his erection against my thigh when he moves. Ignoring the way goose bumps have covered my body. “I’m not saying a thing.”
“Good choice,” he whispers right before he harshly tugs on the waistband of my shorts and kisses me simultaneously.
My legs bend of their own accord as he releases my hands and removes my shorts and easily. I crane my neck to kiss him harder and undo his top button. The shorts fall off my foot, and he covers my body with his, his hardening cock pressing against my panties and my clit.
His hands trail up my body, taking my shirt with him, and he cups my breasts as I finish undoing the buttons and yank the shirt from his waistband. I push it over his shoulders, my palms smoothing over his hot, tan skin, and he releases me for two seconds to shrug it to the floor. God—his body is so lean and perfectly toned. Sinfully ripped, even. With nothing but lust for him driving me, I want to touch every inch of him.
“Still not saying?”
I laugh breathlessly as he pulls my tank over my head and kisses along the curve of my breasts. “You’re gonna need a scarier threat than this.”
“You should be scared.” He flicks the clasp between my breasts and pushes the cups to the side.
My pussy clenches as he brushes his lips across my nipple in a way that isn’t really a kiss but feels completely like one.
“I’m barely getting started with you.” Now, he closes his mouth over it, and I arch my back into him.
“Nope,” I breathe. “Still not scared.”
He smiles against my skin and trails his mouth down my stomach. I shiver when he kisses just above my panty line, because oh my.
“How about now?” His breath coats my clit through the thin fabric.
I inhale on a huge shudder that trembles my whole body. Tingles everywhere. Heart pounding.
Oh, God. This is so cruel.
He laughs quietly then lifts my hips and grasps my panties. He slides them down my legs torturously slowly, making sure his fingertips trail down the insides of my thighs. Then he teases across my instep, which is kinda tickly, but how can I laugh when I know I am totally exposed to him?
I throw my arm over my eyes, blocking him from my view as his fingers trace paths up my legs and he parts them. I can hardly breathe, and at this rate, I’m going to be a gasping mess before he lays another finger on me.
He rubs his thumb over my clit in a circle, firm enough that my legs jerk and air fills my lungs. He laughs again, and still gently stroking it, he kisses the inside of my thigh. “Your body is your worst enemy, Noelle. You won’t say you’re mine, but look how wet you are for me.”
I don’t have a chance to respond because he replaces his thumb with his mouth, and if this is his way of trying to get the words out of me, he stands no chance. I don’t think I can breathe let alone fucking talk. I don’t think I can think except for about what he’s doing to me, how deftly he’s moving his tongue and teasing me. How his exploration is making me writhe on the sheets and arch my back and tilt my hips closer to him while trying to move away all at the same time because it feels so good.
Holy shit, what is he doing to me?
I know what he’s doing to me, but I don’t. It’s like my nerves have all come to life, sending heat flushing through my body. I’m hot but I’m shivering, and I bite my lip and moan as the tip of Drake’s tongue flicks across my clit with the whisper of release.
But he moves.
I groan in annoyance, automatically bending my legs upward and closing my legs. He laughs, and I hear the clink of a belt followed by whoosh of fabric as it pools on the floor. Then, he deftly hauls me onto my side, making me shriek.
“What are you doing?”
“You ask too many questions.” He taps my ass and lies behind me, grabbing my thigh and lifting my leg.
The end of his cock brushes against me, and I tilt my head back, my stomach tightening in anticipation. When his fingers twine in my hair instead of guide him inside me, I reach down, wrap my fingers around his hard length, and angle my hips so he eases inside me easily.
He grips my hair, pulling my head back so his mouth ghosts over my temple. My eyes flutter shut as he pulls out and thrusts back in, repeating the movement several times, each thrust harder than the last. I’m hypersensitive to everything, from his stubble on my cheek to his fingertips digging into my thigh. The rough smattering of hair on his chest, grazing my back. The twitch of his hand buried in my hair. The jerk of his foot hitting mine.
It’s like last time, except it isn’t. I remember, though, what it’s like to have him deep inside me like he belongs there, what it’s like to have him command my body so expertly that I’m virtually powerless. What it’s like to have him touch me and tug me and fuck me until there’s nothing but stars and blinding heat and utter satiation.
He’s doing it now, our bodies moving together, and I’m reaching back to his neck so I have something to grab. He presses openmouthed kisses to my neck, his breathing harsh and heavy, and I grasp his hand on my leg, too, needing to touch him in every possible place.
He lifts my leg higher, kisses my collarbone a little harder, grips my hair a little tighter, and then there is nothing but bittersweet ecstasy.
He once told me that he can make a fuck punishment as well as pleasurable.
He wasn’t lying.
It’s been half an hour and a—lone—hot shower after, and I can still feel my knees jittering even as I sit at my kitchen table and watch him figure out the coffee machine. I chew on the side of my thumb as I consider what this…is. What it means. Because I still didn’t say what he wanted me to.
Drake places a steaming mug of coffee in front of me. “Latte, cream, and half a sugar.”
I smile as I curve my hands around the mug. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He turns and throws out the empty pod, grabbing another from the pot.
I mean, okay. This shouldn’t be confusing. He’s made it clear what he wants, but he’s also made it clear what he doesn’t want, and that’s me working with him. Something which truly is nonnegotiable. I just got a text from Grecia telling me that the contract is already back in the hands of Bond P.I., hand-delivered by one of the mayor’s bitches, complete with a hefty check for me to cash tomorrow.
We don’t work well together, as evidenced by the amount of times we butted heads during Lena’s murder investigation. It was like constantly running into a brick wall only to be swallowed into the center of the brick and spat back out again when you were so angry that it became unbearable.
Which, incidentally, is what led to all the kissing.
Drake takes the seat opposite me, and I look out the window to my backyard. I don’t have the greenest thumb in the world, so it’s restricted to a shed, a dirty patio area devoid of a grill and table set, and overgrown grass.
I really need to call Brody to cut it.
Goddamn, it really shouldn’t be this awkward between me and Drake right now. So we had a highly emotional discussion followed by some highly emotional sex in a very different context, and now, we’re having coffee. That’s what adults do, right? Talk, sex, coffee.
I guess it’s only awkward if they didn’t do the sexing before they finished the talking.