Page 44 of Scorpion

He motions to my purse. “Your gun. Put it on the table.”

I hesitate for a moment before doing as he says. There’s a barely audible thud when the handgun hits the wooden table. Something about the command weaves threads of desire with my blood.

He shrugs off his jacket, loosens his tie, then rolls the sleeves of his white top up to his elbows.

“Dismantle it.”

Rationally, I know I should ask questions. Maybe even refuse to do it because of the risks we face. But my racing pulse dares to do nothing of the sort. I do exactly as he says. I lay out each piece on the table and wait for the next command.

“Put it back together without the magazine.”

This time, I frown but comply, shifting in my seat to generate any kind of pressure. Lust is a living, breathing entity inside of my veins. It turns everything into various shades of red.

“Make sure there are no bullets in there, darling. I’m going to fuck you with it.”

My lips part. That’s… No, he didn’t mean that, right?

Mathijs leans back in the chair and places his hands on either side of the armrest as if he were a king, and I was one of his loyal subjects ready to serve his every whim. There’s only just enough room between him and the table.

Shuddering, I double check there’s nothing inside the chamber so there’s no chance of any kind of misfire.

His gaze drops to the empty space on the table in front of him. “Sit and spread your legs for me.”

A tremor works its way through my limbs as I cautiously rise to my feet and stalk toward him. He watches me like I’m the prey and he’s the real predator among us. Green eyes drop to my lips when I lick them. They blow out into an endless void of black as my fingers travel down to my thighs to inch the skirt up to allow me enough movement to part my legs.

The cutlery clatters when I make it to the edge of the table and place my feet on his armrest, just beneath his hands. Slowly, I find the courage to part my knees and let the gauzy fabric fall back to give him a clear view. My breathing stutters from the heat of his gaze, while his stops altogether.

His hands follow the undersides of my legs, up to my hips, before grabbing the tactical knife strapped to my thigh. I gasp when the cold metal caresses my hot skin right before the thin material of my panties rip apart with the slightest tug of the blade.

From this angle, I can see the evidence of my arousal dripping from me and onto the table. The sound of approval that comes from him sends a bolt of warmth unfurling around my heart. “You look good enough to eat, Lieverd.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek when he trails his fingers along the seams of my inner thighs, making my legs quiver and fight to snap close. My eyelids grow heavy, and I grip the tablecloth to stop myself from pushing my hips closer to him when he leans down and places a kiss to the inside of my knee. He doesn’t need to know how desperate I am for him.

“Do you know how long I’ve been starving?”

Mathijs drags his lips halfway up my thigh, then kisses a path to my core, only to pause an inch away from where I need him most. A needy whimper pulls out of me because his promise feels too good, and I’m losing control over my frayed edges.

“A man should never be left unfed for so long,” he rasps.

His hot breath fans over my center, and I give up trying to stop myself from angling my body to where I want him to go. I throw my head back with a moan when he licks the full length of my pussy. Once. Like he’s playing with his food.

“We can get… creative. You don’t want to know all the ways I’ve been imagining you.”

A string of curses flies past my lips when his mouth returns to where I’m aching the most. His tongue flicks out, lapping at me. From the way his fingers dig into the meat that hugs my curves to the way his eyes bore up at me like I had it all wrong earlier.

I am not his loyal subject: he’s mine.

Soft moans mix with the string music, and my desire warms the air around while he consumes me so completely, it’s hard to believe I haven’t become a corpse.

Mathijs’s tongue moves side to side over my clit, winding the muscles in my core tighter like I could combust at any second. He pulls away too soon, wearing the evidence of my arousal on his face.

“I’m a respectable man, darling,” he says, voice hoarse like he’s barely holding on. “And you make me want to do things to you that will make me lose that title.”

A groan builds in the back of my throat when he slips two fingers inside of me and curls them. Stars burst behind my vision and the world tips on its axis.

“Your gun,” he rasps.

I fumble behind me until my hand lands on the weapon. I pass it to him faster than necessary, then lean back in an open invitation for him to do whatever the hell he wants as long as he can get rid of the soul-consuming ache building within me.

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