Page 47 of Lord of the Dark

I pressed her back against the cold tiles of the shower. "A damn good observation," I replied quietly, leaning in until my mouth found hers. Feeling and kissing her soft lips still sent tingles down my neck. Why the hell did she get under my skin like this?

My cock had long since seized control of my reasoning again, guiding my hands to her breasts almost automatically. I couldn't get enough of feeling them in my palms, tugging at her nipples, watching her reactions. It seemed she herself wasn't sure whether to enjoy the pain or fight against it.

I turned her face-first against the wall and forced her legs apart with my foot. The water still cascaded over us in warm streams, draping our bodies like a steaming veil. She braced herself against the tiles, arching those tempting curves toward me.

"Will we ever do anything besides fuck?" she asked, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Why would we?" I pulled her face to mine, kissing her as I slowly slid into her. "No, we won't—not when you feel this goddamn hot. Oh fuck..." I couldn’t believe it still felt this insanely intense. We’d just fucked each other senseless, and yet it was like I hadn’t felt her in weeks. I thrust deeper, filling herto the hilt, pulling her so close our bodies were tangled tight. I didn’t want to let go—never again—I was obsessed.

She bent forward at hip height, positioning herself perfectly before me, ready to take me in without resistance. With rhythmic thrusts, she braced her hands against the wall, fucking my cock with the circling motion of her hips. The water cascaded over us as the raw force between us reached new heights—and we lost ourselves, unrestrained, in an intoxicating frenzy.

I was on the verge of release when she abruptly pulled away and turned around. Pressing her back against the wall, she slowly sank to the floor—her eyes blazing, dark and hypnotic, never breaking contact. The running water had long since streaked her black eye makeup into inky rivulets beneath her eyes, giving her a dangerous, almost deranged aura, as if she were some demon conjured solely for me.

With a firm grip, the demoness seized my cock and dragged it decisively toward her mouth. The sight was overwhelming. Her smoldering eyes burned into mine as she pressed her outstretched tongue against my tip, then slowly traced the underside in one long, deliberate stroke from crown to root. I couldn’t look away. She wrapped one hand around me, beginning a measured rhythm of up and down that turned my mind into a vacuum. My head fell back as I surrendered to the sensation, a ragged groan tearing from my throat. Spellbound, I braced my forearms against the wall when she finally took my balls entirely into her mouth, sucking hard.

"Fuck... Fiona... you're definitely doing this for the first time, right? Never... complain about my fuck-pad again..." Every coherent word was a monumental effort for my barely-functioning brain.

She just grinned wickedly around my cock buried to the hilt in her mouth. I fisted her hair and pinned her head against the wall, fucking her throat ruthlessly. When I finally shoveddeep enough to make her gag, I lost all control and came down her throat with an intensity that easily matched our previous orgasms.

If Giovanni ever got even a taste of Fiona's skills, he'd understand why I couldn't form a single coherent thought. God, I was addicted to this woman.

I shot her a questioning look as I lathered soap over my body yet again that day.

"It's okay that I didn't come—I'm still sore," she explained with a mischievous smile playing on her pretty lips. "From earlier... or yesterday... who really knows at this point."

It was like a small insurance policy, keeping us at arm's length for now. Yet I couldn't keep my hands off her.

Once we'd finished showering, I settled into the brown leather armchair while Fiona took the gray one by the windowed wall across from me. There were still important details to discuss—like how I could prevent her from telling anyone about the confidential agreements she'd snooped out of my desk earlier. And I still had to find a way to break it to her that her boyfriend had been lying through his teeth and was on the verge of ruin.

Fifteen

Fiona Robertson

Without the slightest effort, he threw me onto the gray armchair by the wall of windows and casually slid into the brown leather chair opposite—the same one he'd occupied earlier.

"Seems we've reached the point for a little chat about our mutual friend." He sat directly across from me now, which—given that he'd only pulled on dark jeans after our shower—did absolutely nothing to help my concentration.

"That you found these... documents about me in my desk must have been thrilling for you." He seemed to analyze me thoroughly during his brief pause. "But unfortunately, also incredibly stupid of you."

His long legs fell open casually, his perfectly sculpted torso bare and relaxed against the chair.

"Are you listening to me?"

I tried. Really. But I was distracted. "Could you maybe put on a shirt?"

Silence—as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "Are you serious?" He leaned forward, incredulous.

My gaze traced the path of his prominent veins, starting from his defined bicep all the way down to his hand. Unconsciously, I bit my lip.

"Listen carefully. What we’re about to discuss won’t please you," he said calmly, sinking even deeper into the armchair as if he had all the time in the world.

I arched a brow. "Because?"

"Vaughn."

For a moment, I froze. Didn’t say a word.

"What do you know about his business?" he continued after a heavy pause.

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