Page 40 of The Knockout

A shiver skirts down her spine before her shoulders straighten, and she cocks her head over her shoulder, ready to reprimand me like a naughty librarian scolding a loudmouth.

Ohh . . . Naughty librarian. That could be fun.

“I need you to stop touching me and calling mebabyso I can think straight for thirty seconds, god of war.”

I slide my hand inside the damn slit in her long dress—that had her incredible toned, tanned thigh playing peek-a-boo with me all day—and cup her sex before running a finger along the lips of her bare pussy.

“You really want me to stop touching you, Gracie?” I lick up her neck and around her ear lobe, loving how fucking responsive she is. I slide my hand along the soft, smooth skin of her thigh. “Now that I’ve had a taste of your sweet cunt, I’m never going to get enough. I need you laid out on your bed, baby. I need to take my time with you. I want to learn every fucking inch of your body. I want to know exactly how to make you scream. I want to know what you look like when you think you can’t take any more. When you’re begging for relief. I want to know what you feel like when you come on my cock.”

“Ohmygod,” she moans, and I slide two fingers deep inside her perfect pussy and curl them until I hit that spot that makes her fall forward against her door, shaking and moaning.

“Get the keys in the door, Grace, or I’m going to fuck you in this hall, and you’re going to take every fucking inch of me and beg for more.”

“How do you make filthy sound so fucking good?” She backs her ass up into my dick, as frantically desperate for me as I am for her. With shaking hands, she tries to work the key one more time before finally opening the damn door, and we both practically fall inside.

I spin us around and press her back flat against the heavy wooden door, then link our fingers and hold both her arms hostage above her head. “Everything with you and me is going to be good, Grace. You’ll see.”

Her breasts press against my chest, and she bends a knee, wrapping it around my hip. “Fuck, Grace... You gonna show me just how flexible ballerinas are?”

Moonlight mixes with the streetlights outside and filters in through the curtains, giving her an almost iridescent glow. “I want to be the only ballerina you’re thinking about,” she taunts, and I brush my lips over hers.

“Only you, baby,” I whisper against her lips and know with complete certainty I’ll worship this woman with my dying breath.

Glassy, lust-filled eyes stare back at me as I claim her mouth.

Slowly. Savoring her soft lips and sweet, sexy little sighs.

I position both of her wrists in one of my hands and use the other to slide under her dress and cup the most perfect ass that ever existed.

Grace lifts both legs and locks them around my waist. Melting against me. Her delicate curves press against me. Soft where I’m hard and fucking flawless in my arms. This woman was made to be mine.

“We’re going to take our time tonight. I’m going to worship you,” I groan against her mouth, and she whimpers. The sound reverberates through me, and I know I’m as far gone as she is.

Drunk on her taste. Her sounds. Her smells.

I know without a single shadow of doubt, one night will never be enough.

Hell, one lifetime won’t be enough.

“Ares.” She tugs, trying to break free of my hold on her wrists. “I want to touch you.”

My name on her lips might just be my new favorite sound.

I squeeze her bare ass, then smack it, and she moans into my mouth, breaking something that’s been waiting, dormant, for her since that snowstorm months ago.

I’mhungry... Fucking ravenous. And Grace is the only thing to quiet that need.

She locks her long legs around my hips. Her heels dig into my ass, and she grinds her heated core against my hard cock. “Please,” she pleads against my lips.

“Fuck, baby...” I let go of her wrists and wrap a hand around her throat, and those aqua eyes fly to mine, sparkling back at me.

She rocks her hips slowly with heavy eyes and runs her hands over my shoulders and down my shirt, clawing at the hem.

“I want to feel your skin,” she pleads. Her hands slide under my shirt and press flat against my abs, searing my skin. Branding me. “Please, Ares. I need to feel you.”

“You’re gonna feel me for fucking days, baby.” And just that thought has my cock growing harder. I need to be inside. Claiming her.Minerepeats over and over in my head, like a mantra in my mind.

“I want to feel you forever,” she whispers, biting at my lower lip, then sucking it between hers.

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