Page 42 of High Sea Seduction

“You think it was a request?”

“I sure as hell hope so. I don’t respond well to commands,” she snaps.

She’s obviously still testy so I decide not to respond. Instead, I cup her nape and pull her close. She stumbles into me, and I steady her with one hand over her stomach as I tug her down and take her mouth in a kiss that’s all about easing the flaying hunger I’ve suffered since I first set eyes on her.

She tenses for a moment before her mouth softens beneath mine. I go in hard and ruthless, my tongue breaching and surging past her lips to tangle with hers. A gasp, which doesn’t quite make it past our meshed lips, lifts her slender torso, and my fingers curl into her waist, imprisoning her so I can satisfy even a little of that pounding need.

Her hands slide over my shoulders and push into my hair. I tense at the strange feeling. I haven’t allowed a woman to touch me like this without my permission in a long time. Years, in fact.

Not since Cassie and I were together. Not since Toby was alive.

By the time I get round to fucking a woman, she’s more often than not bound, or ready to submit to my commands on how she can touch me.

Keely Benson has already taken far too many liberties. The thought freezes me from the inside, and I tense harder.

Keely lifts her head. “What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” I reply roughly, and struggle to get a hold of myself.

“I’m not an idiot, Mason. Something spooked you just now.” Her forehead creases and a tinge of self-awareness creeps into her eyes. “Was it me?”

“You?”

“If you don’t like the way I kiss, just say so.”

My gaze drops to her wet, slightly swollen mouth, and my cock swells and thickens, desperate for the action I’ve denied it for several long months. “I like the way you kiss. I very much want you to do it again. Right now.”

Her pupils dilate, and I increase the pressure at her nape with the request, not really giving her a choice in the matter. A second before our lips meet, a Ferrari roars past, and she jerks back.

“Shit, I don’t mind PDAs, but do we have somewhere to be? Like a reservation or something?”

“No,” I growl, my focus on the mouth she’s keeping from me.

“Oh, so you’re not planning on feeding me tonight?”

“Oh, you’ll be fed, kitten. Just probably not in the way you expect.”

Her fingers, still tangled in my hair, tighten and another cold wash of reality bathes me. I grasp her hands and pull them down to her sides. Reaching into the compartment in front of me, I pull out a helmet. “Put this on and get on the bike.”

She hesitates, like she wants to argue, but then she slides the helmet on. Her small, long-stringed purse goes cross-bodied over her shoulder and she swings her leg over the seat. I wait till she’s fully in place and gun the engine.

“You ready?” I ask, my head turned so I can see her face.

“Yes.”

“Hold on.”

She nods and shifts closer. Her crotch nudges my ass. I suppress a growl and barely wait for her arms to slide around my waist before I kick the stand and dart into the slow-moving traffic.

Her hold tightens, and she leans closer against my back. My muscles flex in reaction to the touch of her firm breasts, and I breathe through my mouth while debating the wisdom of picking her up by bike instead of using the car, despite the Ducati getting us to my place quicker.

We bypass the posh restaurants and bars around Casino Square and head east. Every now and then I tilt the bike to take a fast corner, and I feel her breath on my neck before the wind whips it away. I take a particularly sharp corner and her nails claw into my skin as she grips a handful of my shirt. My jaw clenches and I fight the urge to stop the bike, spread her naked on top of it and fuck her raw for making me hurt this bad.

But I don’t stop. Because then she might bolt.

Five minutes later, I pull up in front of tall wrought-iron gates and input the security code. I sense her surprise but don’t give her a chance to question where I’ve brought her before gunning the bike through the barely adequate gap.

I skid to a stop at the end of the sweeping driveway and dismount. A glance shows her mouth gaping as she stares at the house. “Who lives here?”

---