Page 5 of Only For Your Touch
Chapter Two
Fuck, the princess was trying to kill him.I’ll be fine, Sasha had told Rion when he’d volunteered to keep eyes on Corrine Salvaggi, and now those words flipped him off with a big fucking grin. Maybe if he’d kept his distance, he could’ve upheld his promise.
Maybe if he hadn’t spent the last hour and a half watching her lose herself in complete abandon on the dance floor, rolling and bucking those hips perfect for gripping, shaking that ass his hands itched to shape, mold, and bite… Maybe then he wouldn’t be thinking with his dick right now.
Yeah, and if “if” was a fifth, he would be drunk as hell.
“I want you to make me come.”
He’d asked for it. Yet, the words had still struck an explosion of lust inside him like a match set to dry kindling. Spoken so low and containing a tremble, the words should’ve been a plea. But they weren’t; she’d demanded. And suddenly, he’d been the one needing to comply, to obey.
He’d expected her to scurry away, grab her friend, and hightail it out of the club. Part of him hoped she would, because it was for the best. But the larger, darker,needierpart of him had wanted her to remain under him. Get dirty with him.
And goddamn, wasn’t she. Letting him push her into an alley. Letting him suspend her from a fire escape ladder. The sight of her strung up, bound and helpless before him… A hard fist of lust squeezed the hell out of his gut before moving down to his cock and stroking it, pumping it so he had to keep his hips from jerking forward. Had to force himself not to stroke his throbbing shaft between the thighs gloved in denim.
Need, hard and hot, pulled tight in his belly. Fuck. He should admonish her for allowing him, a man she’d just met, to exert such control over her. The wrong man would abuse that power, abuse her. The lapse in judgement emphasized her naiveté, and he would address it with her…just as soon as her body shook in orgasm and her screams echoed in his ears.
Lowering his arms, his fingers followed the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, all the while studying her face, her eyes, for any hint of hesitancy or fear. So he could let her go. But only lust darkened her emerald gaze. Lust and excitement.
Humming softly, he skimmed his hands up the curves that had been taunting him all night. He stopped beneath the cups of the corset, and even through wire, satin, and lace, the heaviness of her breasts was a delicious weight against his fingers. He’d bet the fifty-thousand dollars he scored on his last job that they were real, not the unnaturally firm flesh that some women seemed to believe all men enjoyed.
“How should I make you come?” he purred in her ear, his thumbs unerringly locating and sweeping over pebbled nipples that pressed against her top.
She whimpered, arching into his touch, her hips twisting…searching. He swallowed back a growl, but his cock wasn’t as considerate. It pounded, demanding to feel her breasts squeezed around its length. Insisting it get to thrust between them before pushing into a mouth that hadn’t been created for sucking a man off, but should’ve been. With a short jerk, he tugged down the material concealing her from him.
“So fucking pretty,” he praised, that same groan working its way up his throat again as he finally eyed her bare flesh and cupped it. Pale skin sprinkled with a cinnamon smattering of freckles, she was a bit more than a handful… But then, he had larger than average hands, so just perfect for him. He plucked at her nipples…so delicate, pink, lovely. Lowering his head, he rubbed his cheek over a tight peak, then turned his head, grazing his lips over it. She jerked, cried out, and he murmured, “Shh.Legko.”Easy. “So responsive.” He delivered a long, slow lick, curling his tongue around the tip and drawing on it. “I could make you come just from this.” Another lap. Another suck. “Are you one of those women who could explode from this alone? You’re sensitive enough. And I would take as long as you needed. It would be my pleasure, baby.”
Her chest rose and fell on harsh, rapid pants. She stared down at his hands on her, green eyes glazed with the same hunger that gripped him in its sharp claws. He lifted his head, trailing his mouth over her breast, her throat, until he found the skin just below her ear.
“Or, do you want me to play with your pussy?” he offered, nipping her earlobe and tugging on her nipples. “I could slide my hand down the front of these pants that should be fucking outlawed, get inside your panties, and soak myself in all that wet heat. Because you are wet, aren’t you, baby?” He didn’t give her a chance to reply, instead abandoning one breast and dragging his hand down her belly, over her zipper, and in between her thighs. Her breath caught, and her body stiffened as he skimmed a caress over the crease, applying a teasing but firm pressure. His groan joined hers. Her jeans left little to the imagination and provided a flimsy barrier to the sex that seemed to singe him. “Which one will it be, Corrine? Do I suck you off, or do I finger-fuck you? The choice is yours.”
“I…” She sank her teeth into her lush bottom lip. “I want…”
“Decide. Here…” He tweaked a diamond-hard tip, eliciting a deep moan from her. “Or here.” He rubbed a tight circle over her clit, pressing his thumb against her denim-covered flesh. Her strangled cry gave him her answer even before she rasped it.
“There.” She tilted her hips forward as if begging for more of his touch. “Please.”
Part of him was tempted to drag the teasing out, make the princess tell him in detail where she wanted his fingers and what she wanted him to do to her. That part longed to hear that prim and sinful voice utter “pussy” for him. But the other half couldn’t wait that long.
In seconds, he had her zipper opened, her pants shoved down her hips, and his hand inside a pair of surprisingly plain and sexy as fuck black panties. Slick, hot, and so wet, he slid through her folds with ease, arrowing straight for the heart of her. He should’ve slowed, should’ve gentled her into receiving him. But for the first time since fucking the prostitute Rion’s father had hired for his son, Killian, and Sasha, on Rion’s fifteenth birthday, Sasha was impatient, anxious to touch a woman’s flesh.
Once more, he lowered his head to her chest, swirling his tongue around the beaded tip and drawing it deep into his mouth as he thrust a finger inside her. His eyes damn near rolled to the back of his head as her sex clamped around him like a greedy mouth.
Her hips bucked, and she twisted, her arms yanking at the belt as if trying to free herself. The sight of her pulling and struggling against the temporary restraint hardened his dick into a steel beam. He wanted her naked, hanging from a suspension bar, helpless, completely under his control. Dancing to the erotic tune he set.
Easing his finger out of her, he pressed the heel of his palm against her clit, circled it slow and hard. She whimpered, lifting her hips into his hand.
“Oh God.” She shuddered, another of those soft, kitten sounds escaping her lips. “More.” She gasped as he ground his palm against her. “More.”
“Are you asking or telling me,lisichka?” he whispered in her ear, pulling back his hand and teasing her flesh with light, wide sweeps.
She stilled, her lashes lifting. Her eyes, hazy with arousal, met his. She studied him for a long moment, her gaze sharpening, something dark and intense entering it and sending a bolt of electricity through him.
“Telling you,” she ordered, voice soft but with an underlying thread of steel running through it. “Give me more.”
Christ. Shock slammed the breath from his lungs. Not just from her reply. But at the lust that blasted him like a blowtorch set on incinerate. He wasn’t a submissive; in all his sexual—relationshipswas pushing it too far—encounters, he wielded the control. He’d never bowed down for, bent over for, or blown anyone. But like moments ago, the wish, theneedto comply welled inside him. An illicit,excitingthrill shot through his veins at her command. Another thing he hadn’t felt in years with sex…excitement. This kind of thrill filled him when he pulled off a job, but not during sex. Fucking was good—sometimes hot and nasty as hell. It was a physical release, but never a rush that lit his insides up like a goddamn Star Wars lightsaber.
And courtesy of a mob princess who wore innocence like one of the couture dresses she probably owned by the dozens but whose pretty eyes dared him—no,demandedhe corrupt her.
