Page 119 of Rogue
“No time like the present. We could do it right now.”
“No can do. I’ve got other plans for you. There’s a chair in the bedroom. It looks exactly like the one you smashed over my head.”
“A Louis XIV?”
He shrugs. “While I’m finishing up here, go inside and climb up on it. Then brace yourself. Because by the time I’m done fucking you this time around, that chair is going to be toast.”
“Seriously?” I glance down. Yep, seriously. The man is a fucking machine.
“Do it and you’ll find out.”
I unwrap the towel he’s wrapped around me, toss it to him, and, shaking my ass, march into the bedroom.
He makes a noise deep in his throat as he enters the bedroom.
“Like this?” I innocently ask, peering over my shoulder at him.
“Beautiful,” he says, coming up behind me. “I imagined you just like this.”
“You fantasized about fucking me on this chair?” I ask, then squeal as he lightly smacks my ass with his palm. “Where else,” I manage to ask as he takes hold of my hips and slides his cock inside me.
“You’re going to find out. Thehardway, fireball.”
With masterful precision, Jaxson lives up to his promises, causing the chair to rock, my world to roll, and the oh-la-la to rush back into my life with a vengeance.
31
Paris
“Hola, muchachos.”
I sit up, pulling the sheet to my naked breast as I stare at the door.
The lock is picked.
And Diego is hovering over us.
Damn it. Of all hit men, he’s the last person I hoped to see.
“Dios mio. This room is trashed.”
“Diego,” Jaxson casually greets our sexy yet deadly counterpart, as if the ruthless mercenary doesn’t have a huge Valkyrie Rifle M4 trained on us. Big gun. Big feet. Big . . . yeah, don’t I know he’s packing. The last time I set eyes on the man he was in boxer briefs that did nothing to hide him sporting a woody. A shame for womankind the world over he and the monster between his thighs are not going to make it out of this hotel room.
We ended up falling asleep on the floor. Jaxson on his stomach and me on my back. He’s lying next to me, his head by my feet, with his hand casually placed on my inner thigh and his fingers resting on my mound.
Both of us exhausted and as naked as the day we were born.
“I see you’ve found her,” Diego comments, his lips twitching as his eyes skim the room. The couch pillows are tossed about the room. I refer to this pillow fight as revenge for the times he shot at me. Jaxson, he calls it foreplay. The antique chair next to the couch is flipped over, lucky to be in one piece after I rather vigorously drove down onto Jaxson’s cock, in the throes of the mother of all climaxes, and set the chair toppling over. My former bath towel acts as a new shade on the floor lamp over by the bar. With one sweep of his arm, Jaxson cleared the bar’s smooth, uncomfortable wood top of it’s expensive liquors and fine crystal glasses, which now decorate the Aubusson carpet. “I’m quenching a thirst,” he informed me, his lips wet with my juices.
The sheets are half on the bed, half off. The room smells like sex. And holy hell, Jaxson looks exhausted. Well-fucked and well-loved, like he just stepped out of a bordello full of only women and him.
I tilt my head for a quick peek in the mirror on the wall closest to the bed. Jaxson made me watch—yeah, he made me—as he fucked me up against that mirror. Nothing is more beautiful than witnessing Jaxson’s climax. The hungry gleam in his eyes. That maddening grin of his. We mated. We fucked. We pushed each other’s boundaries. We loved.
I barely recognize myself. My hair’s wild. Besides the bruises on my throat, there’s a damn hickey. And muscles ache in places I didn’t know existed until now.
I’ll die a happy woman.
Jaxson rolls to his feet. Uncaring that he’s unarmed and . . . sweet mother Mary, semierect. “Coffee first?” he asks, moving away from me and toward the phone on the other side of the bed. Drawing Diego’s attention along with him. “Might as well enjoy the amenities while we still have them. I’ll dial room service.”
