Page 29 of Ruthless Vow

When she dragged my gun from my waistband just now, ruthless, it made me want to fuck her. My cock is harder than stone.

I see her now. Nicole is not timid and shy, scared of her own shadow. She is fire on a frigid night. She is lit dynamite in a dark cave. She is dangerous, and I crave her.

And that confuses me, because I have never craved anyone. Ever.

Then again, no woman has pulled a gun on me before.

But Nicole did, not once, but twice. Maybe that’s the appeal.

It isn’t just about fucking her. I want tounderstandher, to know her, to take her apart, study every puzzle piece, and put her back together while she screams my name. I want her obsessed with me.

I want to be her need, her craving. I want to consume her.

As she consumes me.

In this moment, I admit what I have suspected since the morning she first held a gun on me.

Nicole Milano is mine.

She moans my name as I lift my mouth from hers. Her cheeks are flushed red, her eyelids heavy, her lips swollen.

I rub the pad of my thumb across her lower lip, watching her lust-dazed expression.

I work the buttons of her shirt, an ugly fuchsia thing whose only positive attribute is the fact that it’s short enough to reveal her tights-encased legs and high, round ass. She should be draped in designer silk. Or better still, naked.

She tangles her fingers in my hair and arches against me as I press my mouth to hers, pushing my tongue past her lips, tasting, teasing.

Once the shirt is off, I unhook her bra. Her breasts are high and small, a perfect handful. I shove down her leggings, her panties, and she is naked beneath me. Her body is perfection, athletic, a runner’s body.

The hideous, shapeless dresses she used to wear hid true beauty.

“Perfection,” I murmur against her lips, the hard ridge of my cock pressing against her naked thigh through the cloth of my pants.

She mewls as I lightly brush first one nipple then the other.

“You watched me,” I say, thinking back to the surge of lust that snared me when she watched me fuck another woman’s mouth through the open doorway of my office. I’d wanted to push her to her knees and push my cock intohermouth. “Did you like what you saw?”

When she says nothing, I stroke her nipple, then pinch it. She gasps.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice dark and raw.

“You know how I like this,” I say, imagining her on her knees, begging, her ass red from the sting of my palm, her cunt wet and her body plaint, mine to use as I see fit.

She hesitates, then whispers, “Yes.”

“Tell me what I like,” I order, because I need to confirm that she understands, that she wants what I want.

“You like it rough. You like to be in control. You like it when your partner submits to you,” she whispers, breathless, lust lacing every syllable.

Her words coil through my gut, straight to my cock.

“I do,” I say. “Is that what you want, little wolf?”

“Yes,” she whispers again, reaching for my cock.

I close my fingers around her wrist, stopping her.

“You don’t get to touch me until I give you permission,” I say.

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