Page 50 of Blackmailing the Bad Girl

His mouth was at her throat now, taking little bites, then soothing with kisses. Both his hands slid down her sides, over her hips, her thighs. He grabbed the hem of her dress and hauled it up so he could push one hand between her legs. She almost swooned as he palmed her sex, the heel of his hand pushing upward, forcing a groan from her lips as he rotated it against her.

She groaned again as he stopped. She needed this, could feel the pleasure coalescing in her belly, building. “Come back,” she whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere.” And his fingers slid inside the lace of her panties, between the folds of her sex.

“Christ,” he muttered as one finger sank into her. Her head fell back, and she closed her eyes and just gave herself up to the sensations as he pushed another finger inside her. She wriggled, trying to force him where she needed him the most, and finally, he drew his fingers out, glided along the slippery length of her sex, and circled her clit, so she whimpered in need.

He stopped.

She opened her eyes and found him staring down at her, a wicked glint in his eyes. “You want to come, Summer?”

Oh, yeah.She managed a jerky nod.

“Then say—Nik, you’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

“You’re an asshole,” she managed to get out.

He laughed and trailed the tip of one finger over her swollen clit so she almost jumped out of her skin.

“Let me in, Summer. Let me do this for you. All you have to do is say best boyfriend.”

Hah. Never going to happen. “Bestfakeboyfriend.”

He sighed, circling her clit with the tip of one finger. Fire shot along her nerves, and her hips pushed against his hand. Never had she wanted anything so much. She could feel herself yearning toward him.

“Come on, Summer, they’re only words.” He kissed the side of her neck, bit down on her earlobe, while that torturous finger grazed lightly over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Teasing her. Driving her wild.

He was right. It was only words. “Best boyfriend,” she muttered.

“Good girl.”

“Patronizing dick.”

He laughed, then took her lips in a kiss, pushing his tongue inside while his fingers entered her slick heat and the pad of his thumb massaged her clit. Once, twice, was all it needed, and she came apart. He drank down her moans, then pinched her between his thumb and finger and she exploded, waves of pleasure dragging her under, so she sagged against him and he pushed her back against the wall to keep her upright.

Only the sound of voices passing the entrance to the alley brought her back to herself. She stared at him with wide eyes. She’d expected smug superiority, but he just looked serious. She swallowed, then tested her legs. Deciding they would hold her up, she slowly unlocked her fingers from the deathlike grip on his shoulders. As she steadied herself, ripples of pleasure shivered through her. She cleared her throat, trying to think of something to say. “Thank you” seemed appropriate, but she couldn’t get the words out.

“Come home with me.” He spoke quietly, and for a moment she thought she’d misheard. “Just the once. With nothing bad between us.” God, she wanted to. “Then from tomorrow, we’ll be just friends. You’ll work for me because you want to, not because I’m holding something over you.”

He took her hand hanging limply by her side, raised it to his mouth, kissed her palm, then pressed it to his chest. The heat of his skin burned through the cotton, and she could feel the rapid thud of his heart.

He held his hand over hers, siding her palm down over his body, until it rested against his erection. It pulsed, and her fingers curved to grasp him through the material of his jeans.

“That’s what you do to me.”

Would once be so bad?Once more, her traitorous brain reminded her.

“Come on, Summer, one night in my bed. I won’t ask for more.”

Before she could convince herself it was a mistake of gargantuan proportions, she nodded her head. A smile spread across his face, then he grabbed her hand and hustled her out of the alley. It must have been fate, because as they came out onto the main street, a black cab drove past. Nik raised his hand, and it pulled up beside them. He gave the driver the address and then propelled her into the backseat, not letting go of her hand, as though he thought she might bolt. They were driving west, the streets getting wider. They didn’t talk in the cab, but he kept his grip on her hand, caressing her palm with his fingers. She decided not to think. Thinking was not good right now.

Finally, the cab drew up in front of a crescent-shaped row of houses, white-faced, Georgian at a guess, with five floors. They’d pulled up by the end house, and Nik paid the driver and tugged her out after him. He pressed his finger to a pad by the gate, input a number, and the double gates opened. The house stood only a few meters back from the road, and the dark red front door opened as if by magic.

The door led into a wide hallway, marble-floored, with several dark wooden doors leading off, and a wide staircase to the left. Nik didn’t lead her to the stairs, but to an elevator just to the side of it. The doors parted as he approached. He entered, and so did she; she didn’t have much choice—he still had tight hold of her. Hadn’t released her since she’d said yes.

“You have an elevator in your house.” It was a lame thing to say, but it was better than nothing. She’d never known anyone with an elevator in their house.

He glanced down at her and grinned. “I normally use the stairs, but I want to conserve my energy.”

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