Page 64 of The Rebel

‘Are you questioning my stamina?’ He presses his boner against me, grinds against me a little.

‘No, but I’m questioning your sanity in teasing me down here when we could be upstairs, already naked.’

He lowers his head and nibbles on my neck, and my skin breaks out in goose bumps. ‘You know all that teasing on the plane? I’m going to make you pay.’

‘Promises, promises,’ I whisper in his ear, a second before I bite the lobe a tad hard.

He doesn’t even flinch but I hear a low moan. ‘Come on.’

We walk, fast, towards the ornate staircase that winds between the three floors in a sweeping circle.

‘You couldn’t have chosen a room on the ground floor?’ I ask as we hit the first at a fair pace.

‘I didn’t want anyone to hear you scream when I lick you out.’

There’s no suitable verbal response to that but the dampness between my legs makes me want to sprint. We skip every second step and arrive at the second floor panting, but I don’t think it’s from the exertion.

‘Room two-twenty-two,’ he says, almost heading the wrong way in his hurry to get me naked. At least, that’s what I hope.

‘It’s to the left.’ I point at the directions posted on the wall in front of us and he mutters a curse before we take off in the opposite direction.

We’re almost running by the time we reach the room at the end of a long hallway. He jabs the key in the lock, misses the first time, and I chuckle. He shoots me a filthy look before trying again and this time the relic slides in and turns first try.

He pushes open the solid mahogany door and waits until I pass before letting it close. I barely have time to register a smallish room that resembles a brothel from the fifties—crimson carpet, drapes, and bedspread, with purple lamp shades, recliner, and vinyl-topped desk, with gold accenting everywhere—before he’s on me.

Grabbing my wrists and lifting them overhead. Pinning me to the wall. His body flush against mine.

It’s exactly what I want.

‘You drive me wild,’ he mutters, claiming my mouth in a searing kiss that sizzles all the way down to where I want him most.

My nipples peak, craving the relief only his mouth can give. As if reading my mind he dips his head and nips them through the cotton of my shirt, a sharp bite that’s more pleasure than pain.

I can’t keep still. I writhe against him, my hips undulating of their own accord. He holds my wrists overhead with one hand and uses the other to rip open my shirt. Thank goodness for pop stud buttons.

Then his mouth is on me. On my collarbone, my chest, and finally my nipples when he flicks my bra hooks open at the back.

He laves and licks and sucks, moving from right to left, leaving the nipples rigid and wet. Then he blows the faintest puff of air on them and I’m arching off the wall.

‘Please, Hart…don’t make me beg.’

The corner of his mouth crooks. ‘Might be kind of fun.’

‘No. You. Inside me. Now.’

I’m bossy and petulant and he laughs.

‘Okay.’ He releases my wrists and they fall limply to my side.

I’m tingling, though I doubt it’s from the lack of circulation, because it’s spreading all over my body, starting from my breasts that he’s staring at like the best damn thing he’s ever seen, all the way down to my toes.

‘But first, I must do this.’ He drops to his knees and eases my skirt and panties down in one go. There’s no waiting, no preamble; his mouth is on me and I let out a moan.

He tongues my clit with the perfect pressure, the perfect rhythm, just freaking perfect…I’ve been on edge since the taxi ride and my muscles quickly tense, the pleasure spiralling out of control as my orgasm hits like a freight train, making my knees buckle.

I have no idea I’m bucking until he steadies my hips with his hands and places an almost chaste kiss above my bikini line.

Then he’s unzipping and sheathing and inside me. Hard and long and thick, a wistful sigh escaping my lips.

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