Page 54 of Arrogant Bastard

“God, you’re exquisite. So goddamn beautiful.” The reverence in his voice is so deep and pure it draws a helpless moan from my throat. “I’m going to taste you now. Would you like that?”

I inhale, and my head bobs in an eager nod.

Hot blue eyes darts from my chest to my face, his avid gaze absorbing my every reaction. “Lean forward, baby. Squeeze your tits together with your arms for me.”

My heart flutters wildly as I comply. His request is a new one to me. In the past, he liked me to cup them for him. Now they feel extra-heavy, extra-sensitive as he moves that last excruciating inch and draws his tongue across one tight nub. We both groan. My eyes squeeze shut, and I feel like I’m drowning in fiery pleasure as he begins to lap at me. His tongue and my nipple are the only points of contact, and that is the most incredible, spine-melting feeling.

“Killian,” I sigh, unable to stop myself from articulating what he’s doing to me.

“So good, baby. So fucking good,” he growls around my nipple.

He transfers his attention to my other needy breast and creates the same insane magic before sucking it hard into his mouth. My ass grinds on the desk, my pussy desperate for relief against the ache clamoring deep inside.

I throw my head back, eager for more of what he’s doing. The helpless noises rising from my throat trigger an insane reaction in him. His ministrations turn even more ravenous, the suction on my flesh turning almost painful as he gorges on me. As the moan rips through me, and my hips undulate faster.

“Are you fucking my desk, sweetheart? If I keep doing what I’m doing, are you going to come all over it?”

He shouldn’t be able to make me blush. The things we’ve done with each other, to each other, should erase all embarrassment. And yet heat flows up my neck into my face. Because I feel like I’m on the edge. As if another swipe of his wicked tongue will set me off.

He pulls back a little and stares at me with wild eyes. “I asked you a question. Your body’s on fire, and you’re pumping those hips in that fast way you do when you’re so close. Should I keep kissing your gorgeous tits? Do you want to come on my desk or on my cock?” he asks as he swipes his tongue between my squeezed-together breasts.

I have to swallow a couple of times before I can answer. “On…on your cock.”

He groans long and deep. “Shit. That means we need to relocate. And…I don’t want to. Not just yet.” He turns his head to the side and sucks hard on one nipple.

Pleasure rains sweet fire on me. “Oh God!” The balloon of craving between my thighs threatens to burst wide open. The heavy petting against his front door yesterday barely took the edge off my insane need. It’s building up again, wilder, fiercer. I know it’s going to annihilate me. “Please…”

“Does it hurt, sweetheart?” he whispers hotly against my skin, and even the hot puff of his breath threatens to send me over the edge.

Desperate, I squeeze my thighs together. “Yes!”

He stands and yanks me off his desk. My eager arms and legs circle his shoulders and hips. He stumbles when my hot sex snuggles his rigid cock.

“Jesus!” His forehead rests against mine, and he breathes deep. When he raises his head, his face is a mask of barely-held-together control. “Hang on just a little longer, sweetheart. I’m not going to fucking blow my load propped up against the wall like a damn schoolboy this time. Much as I loved that hand job, the next time I taste heaven again will be in that tight, beautiful pussy.”

“Hurry. Please. I need you so much.”

His face slackens with an emotion that scrapes me raw deep in my heart. “God, Faith, I’ve waited so damn long to hear that.” His voice is filled with pain and joy, longing and hell.

I bury my face in his neck when he starts to move again. My eyes prickle, scaring me even more…throwing me back to the last time I truly wept. That memory has no place here, and yet where else can it belong but right here, between the two people who created it, even if one of them has no clue about it?

My heart squeezes as I hug my secret close.

My baby.

The precious child I lost when Paul Galveston drove a knife through my womb.

A sound rips through the room. Battered. Mournful. A wounded animal in its death throes. It’s torn from what remains of my soul.

Killian stops dead in his tracks. “Faith? What—?”

I shamelessly rub my damp sex against him. “Don’t stop. Please. The bed, Killian. Take us to bed.”

The scent of my arousal explodes between us. His breath shudders free, and he resumes walking. He can’t see me like this, so I call on every ounce of composure I can find. The moment we reach the bedroom, I spike my fingers through his hair and fuse my mouth to his. More than an eager participant, he devours my lips as he makes a beeline for the bed.

The landing isn’t smooth or sophisticated. We tangle and roll and fight not to break contact. His teeth nip at me, and my nails dig in where they land. I’m still wearing panties, my top is bunched around my waist, and he’s still wearing his pants. To undress we need to separate. Neither of us wants to.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles against my lips.

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