Page 226 of Tell Me Lies

Her defiance irked him and yet it made his passion rise. At his building, he pulled into the onsite parking garage and let the attendant park his car. At the front entrance, the doorman greeted him by name and held the door open.

Javier gestured Cecily to enter first then followed. In the elevator, she stared at him.

“You live here?”

He shrugged. “What did you think? Pictured me in a public housing project or a third-floor walk-up, maybe a cardboard box in an abandoned subway station? It’s a studio apartment but still, it’s fine.”

She pulled her wrap tight around her shoulders. “I didn’t have a clue and didn’t need to know. Won’t you take me home, please?”

He shook his head. “No, not happening. You’d be on the phone to New York City’s finest before I walked out the door. You’ll be my guest, for now.”

Cecily wrinkled her nose and frowned. “I’d call it prisoner.”

“Semantics. No matter what word you use, it’s the same. It’s like that old potato, patato thing.”

She turned her back to him. “You’re insane, a criminal, bloodthirsty, a killer, and crazy.”

Javier grinned. “I’m a professional. It’s a career.”

Cecily swirled around. “Murder is not a career.”

She spit out each word like a bone stuck between her teeth while he laughed.

On his floor, he grasped her arm so she wouldn’t bolt and strong-armed her to his door. After unlocking the door one-handed, Javier led her inside. He considered what the place must look like to her. An open floor plan featured a living area where he had a sectional couch, a glass-topped occasional table, a smaller table with a lamp, and a large-screen television mounted on the wall. Beneath it a shelf held movies, music, and a few books.

Beyond the living space, a dining room table with four chairs sat in front of the three windows with a view of the East River. On a clear day, Javier could see Roosevelt Island and Queens on the opposite side. Two paintings decorated the wall, both originals, one by Diego Rivera, the other by Frederick Remington. Javier always imagined in a past life, which he wasn’t certain could be possible, he would have been a cowboy, maybe a vaquero.

The compact, efficient kitchen opened to the left and his spacious bedroom to the right. Javier put his rifle bag in the closet to the right of the entrance door.

Cecily stood and stared. His furnishings were the best money could buy, and a top-rated interior designer had used her expensive expertise to provide an attractive, comfortable, and yes, ritzy atmosphere. “The artwork, they’ve got to be prints, right? I expected movie posters or gun pictures or something.”

His dick swelled within his jeans and if he didn’t take her soon, he might explode. After any hit, he needed sexual release. Javier had to have a woman to release the tension, to bring him back down to earth. “Not hardly,” he said as he reached for her. “Wait until you see the Degas in the bedroom.”

He had no more words, so he seized her and took her into his arms. Javier kissed her, swiftly and savagely, his mouth claiming hers by right and force. His lips burned against hers. She tasted like champagne and mint. Her perfume, something exotic and expensive, filled his nose with the scent, which further fueled his desire. Javier placed one hand behind her head and devoured her mouth. He nibbled at her lips and bit enough he tasted the salt of blood, then he rammed his tongue into her mouth, French kissing her until she whimpered.

That brought him to a halt. He wasn’t a man who took a woman against her will, and he’d never had one protest. He might be a contract killer, but he wasn’t a fucking rapist. Unless he’d gone loco and lost his mind totally, she wanted this too, the way her mouth reacted to his, how her body seemed to ripen with his touch.

“You want me. I know you do, as much as I want you. Your body tells me so even though your mouth tells another story. I’m not going to take you against your will, Chica. I don’t do that. Tell me if you want me.”

“Javier,” she mouthed. “Wait…”

He growled with frustration. “Yes or no? Which one lies, your body that’s hot for me, that melts at my touch, or your lips that tell me to wait? Do you want it hard and fast or with a slow hand? Tell me.”

Cecily stared at him, eyes huge in her face, then whispered, “Rough, I like it down and dirty. Give me what you got, you bastard. I’ll decide if you’re as good as you seem to think.”

If she wanted rough, that’s what she’d get. He couldn’t wait much longer or his cock might explode.

Javier tore the fancy dress from her with capable hands, then tossed it to the carpet. Beneath it, Cecily wore no bra, so her full, lush breasts were revealed. Javier removed her thong panties by ripping them. He deepened his kiss as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his king-sized bed. Without bothering to remove the comforter, he tossed her down and lowered his body above hers. He took her hands and held them above her head so she couldn’t interfere as he used lips, teeth, and tongue on her pale, satin skin.

He nipped her soft throat, the hollow beneath it and the top of her breasts, leaving love bites that would bruise and purple. Javier tasted and tantalized, working his slow way down her body, his cock tightening until it ached. He laved her body from breast to belly with his tongue, still holding her hands in one of his so she wouldn’t resist.

Since her nipples hardened as his lips caressed them with his mouth, Javier didn’t think she had any complaints. His need for a woman, for the pure and swift sexual release, had gone past any point where he could or would stop. If she hadn’t told him to fuck her, he would have been forced into a hand job, something he hated.

As Javier moved lower, he released his grip and used his hands to caress her, then to fondle her mound. He stifled a laugh when he found her pussy wet. Delighted to find her willing and that she liked what he’d done so far, he dived deeper. He stroked her, rubbed with enough friction that she moaned, low. Then he stuck an exploring finger deep into her box, delighted with the moist heat. He considered taking her now, but he wanted to enjoy the agonizing pleasure a little longer. Javier fondled her clit and Cecily almost came up off the bed, writhing and panting.

“Don’t you dare stop now, asshole.”

Javier laughed. “I’m just getting started.”

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