Page 84 of Filthy Lovin Heroes

I pulled her into my arms. This time I had no intention of letting her go easily. It was like I’d held her a million times before. It felt so right.

Her face was upturned to mine and illuminated by a sliver of light from the window. Her voice was quiet, but the words were unmistakable, “After tonight, we’ll never mention this again.”

Two

Holly

Malcolm stood in the center of my room, pressing me against the wall. Every inch of his hard body fit snuggly against all of mine in the most delicious, forbidden way. And the best part was this dirty talker had a Scottish accent. It was like finding out I had a secret craving and then being able to immerse myself in it.

His lips trailed hot kisses over my neck. Strong hands roamed my body, stroking and working my desire for him into something I swiftly lost control over. I wasn’t thinking of Noah, not in the least. What Malcolm didn’t realize was tonight the dickhead dumped me. So the little call Malcolm made did me a favor. Noah was my first boyfriend, and outside of kissing and cuddling, he didn’t have much desire to explore things between us physically. Noah wanted to save my virginity for our wedding night like I was a piece of glass set on a shelf.

It was all about what he wanted.

What I wanted was for Malcolm Murdoch to fuck me.

I blamed my virginity for this situation.

A twenty-two-year-old virgin in New York City? It was embarrassing. But labeled a genius at an early age through all those intelligence tests had left some gaps in my education.

So here I was, plastering myself against my colleague who, by any measure, was a womanizer, while I was on the other end of the spectrum.

That was what my brain told me, at least.

My body was on fire for him. My familiarity with Malcolm from working with him daily erased my usual awkward feelings in social situations.

I licked my lower lips. I probably shouldn’t have encouraged him back at the bar, but I was feeling a little burned after Noah gave me the boot in his utterly polite socially acceptable way. By being curt and cold. In other words, a robot.

Nothing about Malcolm felt cold or robotic.

God this was happening. This was Malcolm.

Yes, he was an arrogant asshole, as I reminded him regularly. But I’d also witnessed him give away his winter coat to a homeless man in the ER on a frigid night and I knew he’d paid more than a few patients’ medical bills. He didn’t know I knew that.

I popped the top few buttons of his shirt while his lips kissed my collarbone and lower. I slid my hand inside his shirt, feeling the solid plane of his chest. My fingertips curled in the dusting of hair there.

“Bed?” I whispered.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you against the wall all night,” Malcolm growled. His voice grew thicker when he was excited, I noted. “Fill that tight pussy of yours with my cock and feel you squeeze around me.”

I gulped. Malcolm growling in a Scottish burr was fucking fantastic.

I made the mistake of gasping with surprise and he took advantage, claiming my mouth in a hard kiss that yes, made my toes curl and my heart race.

He lifted me and I wrapped my legs around his waist. His fingers kneaded my ass, sliding ever closer to my?—

“Oh!” I cried, dropping my forehead to rest on his shoulder.

He rubbed the fabric of my panties before hooking a finger inside. I moaned into his neck when he stroked a finger over my throbbing clit.

“Holly, damn” Malcolm’s voice was ragged. “You’re so wet.”

The feral growl in his voice only made me grow wetter. My head fell back when he stroked a finger along the soft flesh of my dripping wet pussy lips. Sounds of my juices and his finger working me filled the room.

“And Jesus, you’re fucking tight.” He angled his finger, and I ground my hips against him.

Jesus help me, if he made fingering me feel this fantastic, what would taking him deep inside me feel like?

“Such sticky panties. Let’s make that pussy come all over my cock.”

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