Page 85 of Killer Kiss

Because some voice in the back of my mind roared, “mine” every time I got near her.

And I didn’t fucking share.

The room was dark, but two lamps cast a dim yellow glow that washed over our skin and clothing, making the space feel warm. A king-sized bed sat in the middle, covered in a black satin sheet.

No pillows. No comforter or blankets.

This room wasn’t for sleeping.

Bondage points were attached to all four corners of the bed, but when I ran my fingers over one of the attached, soft cuffs, Ophelia shook her head.

“I don’t want to be tied down. Not here. Not tonight.”

I caught her wrists, pulling her in tight. “I’m never going to do anything you don’t want. You say no to tying you up, I won’t. Not my kink anyway.”

She smiled up at me, suddenly interested. “What is?”

I chuckled. “What’s yours?”

She shrugged, walking around, giving a sex swing in the corner a squinty glance before heading to a display of sex toys on a table. “Who says I have one?”

“Everyone has a kink, Ophelia.”

I saw the shiver my words sent down her spine, and it only made me want to figure her out more. She’d been so insistent that men didn’t do it for her. And yet I’d made her come twice now with no problem at all.

I didn’t know which stupid rich pricks she’d been sleeping with over on the other side of the border, but maybe she should have tried the wrong side of the tracks earlier.

Her fingers lingered on the bejeweled ass plugs and nipple clamps, and I took mental note, storing that information away for future reference. Fuck, I’d like to use those on her. Every damn one, filling all her holes, clamping her tits, making sure every toy brought her the pleasure they were so specifically designed for.

“There is something that turns me on. Not a kink, as such. Just something I like.”

“Tell me,” I said eagerly. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

I meant it. If I got to hear more of those noises, see more of her body, taste her pussy when her orgasm exploded, then I would do whatever she wanted.

No limits.

She came to stand in front of me.

Then dropped down on her knees, staring up at me through long lashes while she undid my belt. “Take your shirt off,” she demanded.

That was easily done. I lifted it over my head and dropped it on the floor, but when she undid the button on my jeans, exposing the thick erection behind because I hadn’t worn underwear, I stopped her. “Let me taste you.”

But she shook her head hard. “You asked me what turns me on. This is it.”

She wrapped her fingers around my cock, and I hissed at the cool touch of her fingers.

But still, I tried to pull away.

She squinted at me. “You don’t like head?”

“Every guy likes blow jobs, Lia.” I just couldn’t remember the last time I’d had one. Fuck, it had probably been ten years, back before I’d started charging people to sleep with me. When people paid you for sex, it was all about them. I didn’t kiss them, and I didn’t like them touching me. I was there to do a job, not for pleasure.

“Your cock is huge,” she whispered, gripping my length with both hands and sliding them up and down my shaft.

That right there was the other reason I didn’t push people for blow jobs. The size of me scared them, and it was an instant erection killer when someone looked up at you with stark fear in their eyes.

As such, I’d gotten really good at giving.

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