Page 20 of Wild Card

Chapter Five

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She couldn’t even ignore what the rooms were there for. After passing room two, the picture was crystal clear. For a second, Jen wondered if the heavy moans were just the outcome of a hard gym session—but then she remembered passing the gym earlier today, when meeting Tess at the wedding coordinator’s office. No way did the Nyte need another workout locale.

And once Sam pushed open the door to room three, no way could she hit the denial button on his intent.

Lighting even dimmer than the main room. A canopied bed fit for a king, all mahogany tapestries and endless pillows. A three-sided mirror in the corner with a multi-level stool in front of it, serving a purpose Jen could only imagine—though right now, her imagination ran pretty damn wild.

“In.”

His voice was harsh, twisting into her like a newly heated poker, needing no embellishment for her compliance. But he’d given no stipulation about doing it meekly.

“Damn it, Sam. This is not acceptable. Shutting me up by dragging me to the shadows and—”

It was impossible to say anything else, with the man’s tongue suddenly in her mouth.

Passionate. Powerful. Consuming.

Ohhhh, damn.

A moan exploded up Jen’s throat. She wanted to—needed to—resist, but couldn’t. Her lungs struggled for air as her stomach battled for the right way up. Her head fought a silvery, lusty fog. Her whole body burst to life, as if this was the first time Sam kissed her. Every sensation was new and brilliant, incredible and illicit—especially as he rammed her against into the thick bed post.

She groaned again, lifting a leg around his waist. To her shock, Sam pushed it back down. When he tore his mouth away, she let her face drop into confusion.

“For the record, it isn’t acceptable that you’ve compared yourself to the scum on my shoe, and then even hinted that—” Whatever he was going to say stunned him into silence. He stabbed a hand through his hair. “Arse and fuckin’ parsley, Jenny. We’ve shared things with each other before tonight. A lot of things! Do you really think that I would be even half attracted to someone like—”

He interrupted himself with another growl. The violence of it curled into Jen’s blood, making her instinctively reach back, clutching the bedpost with one hand.

A lot of good that did.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, grabbing her free wrist. “I’m tired of tryin’ to sweet-talk this into you.”

“That was sweet talk?”

Bad move. The three seconds she took for the sarcasm were all the time he needed to pivot her around, then lift her other hand to clasp the post. In another flash of motion, he pulled on something hidden in the canopy. A pair of padded wrist cuffs dropped from seemingly nowhere. Holy shit. Did every piece of furniture in this place come complete with kinky booby traps?

A needy moan spilled past her self-control as he latched her into the cuffs. She swallowed it down, trying to summon some semblance of self-control. “S-Sam. What the hell? We c-can’t. We promised ourselves. The wonderful…remember?”

“Oh, I’ve no intention of making you feel wonderful.”

Before she could process that, he hiked her skirt up. She was exposed—and completely turned on—from the waist down.

But before she processed that, he landed a sharp spank across her bottom.

“Ahhhhh!”

Then a second.

Holy crap! “Sam. What the—”

He cut her short by kissing her again. Harder than he ever had. Deeper than he ever had. He didn’t relent, compelling her head to twist so he assault her mouth—doing it as brutally as his smacks on her ass. And God help her, Jen let him—not just because he gave her no choice, but because she wanted to. Because somewhere, in her wildest and naughtiest dreams about this man, she’d envisioned him like this. Tearing into her mouth. Razing into her senses. Firing across her skin and nerves…

exactly

like

this.

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