Page 21 of Wild Card

By the time he pulled away, her chest heaved, her blood throbbed, and her sex clenched tightly enough to make her moan again—

Especially when he delivered another blow to her bottom.

Another, at twice the impact.

A third, intensifying more.

“Shit!” she finally managed past the screams.

“Breathe.” His exhortation was practically a Zen chant in her ear. Calm. Soothing. Infuriating.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, Jenny Thorne.” Bizarrely, a smile entered his voice. It twisted with his anger, throwing Jen off. Was she supposed to melt for him, or pour molds for new ice daggers?

As he circled in order to look at her directly, though the post was between them, his expression gave her no clues. He was still beautiful, with those dark eyes and ginger waves and jaw like a precipice from his native land.

“Fuck you,” he repeated, “for thinking so little of me, that someone like Mattie Lesange could ever meet my needs. And fuck you for thinking so little of yourself, to presume you wouldn’t.”

Her breath stopped. Well, she knew what to feel now. Giddy astonishment collided with abject remorse, sprinkled with a layer of maybe-this-really-is-all-a-dream. “I’m—sorry.” And she really was—though that didn’t throw a cease-fire onto her confusion. “But men love pretty things on their arms, Sam.”

He glowered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not the insult you’re taking it as.” She shrugged. Remaining covered from the navel up lent her the confidence. “Life is life, friends are friends, and lovers are something completely different. Sometimes, good sex is just good sex, and making more out of—”

He jerked her chin up using two fingers. Stared like she’d just told him the moon was made of bacon. “Is that all you think of what we shared earlier? ‘Just good sex’?”

Confusion tumbled in again. The answer to that seemed apparent but wasn’t. She decided to go for total honesty. “Look…I just don’t expect anything else, okay? And it’s fine that—”

“I should expect anything else.”

She ignored the darkness in his tone. “How could you? And why would you? Neither of us is a kid. It’s great to think of taking home grand meanings from a one-night thing—when you’re young. But we’re not—”

He stopped her with another kiss. Dug his hand against her scalp, locking her head in place. Stabbed his tongue against hers, as if needing to strip off the words she’d just uttered. When he let her mouth go, he kept his hand in place. Dragged her head back up so he could impale her stare with his. The command in his grip was as compelling as the force in his eyes, once more driving in like that fresh poker, scalding its way onto her psyche, searing its way into her soul.

“I want to spank you again, Jenny.”

She swallowed. “I know.” Ohhh God, how she did. All the silver spikes in his gaze had told her so.

“I still don’t want to be gentle about it.”

“I…I know.”

He dragged in a rocky breath. “Do you?”

“Of—of course. I pissed you off. And you’re a Dominant.” And I want you to punish me. To control me.

Yes, please…

“No.” He shook his head fiercely. “No, you don’t understand. The punishin’…it’s done. But I’m not.” He pushed in, smashing his lips to hers. “God help me, my burners are just starting to fire.” His hand twisted tighter in her hair. “Nothing I feel about you is civilized, woman. It hasn’t been for quite a while.”

Her senses swam in a thick fog. It felt so good. Everything about him felt so good. “You…really mean that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

Her lips lifted. Only one glass of wine but everything was limp and carefree, as if she’d had the whole bottle. “I had no idea.”

“Disguised it that well, did I?” He curled a smile of his own. “When all I thought about, walkin’ into your little office every mornin’, was how to get you exactly like this. Wait—no.” He swung around to mount the bed, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her with him. She now knelt on the mattress, wrists tethered to the bedpost, ass high and presented to him. “Exactly like this,” he revised with a growl.

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