Page 52 of Dirty Temptation

Heat pooled between my legs, and I feel my body shudder as a moan escapes my lips.

“Jesus, Molly.” Atlas groaned. “I need...fuck this.”

We step inside the winery office building, and he suddenly drags me aside, telling the guide we’ll be using the facilities.

“No problem. Take your time.” He smiles, completely unaware of the sexual tension between us.

“Atlas!” I ground out as he pushes open the door to a private hallway. Ignoring me he takes my hand and glances around looking for a door.

Next minute we’re inside one of the most luxurious restrooms I’ve ever seen.

Click.

“Atlas, I—”

His mouth slams down on mine and I hit the wall, gasping, needing, clutching at his navy blue shirt as my eyes close.

Our mouths are ravenous, and we bite and suck at one another like animals.

Yet again this was not my plan but I’m powerless to stop him.

“Undo your jeans.” He orders against my mouth.

“No. We need to stop.” I gasp placing my hands against his chest—his hard and muscular chest that makes my legs weak.

It’s my pathetic attempt at stopping him.

We both know I don’t want him to stop.

Instead of being a gentlemen as he keeps claiming, Atlas moans, releases my mouth, moves an inch away, and pops the buttons of my jeans open.

“You’re wet.” He rasps.

“You don’t know that.” I try.

He smirks, his eyes dancing with humor and desire. Then he unzips me, slides his hand inside my panties and we both moan as his middle finger glides through my wet folds.

God help me.

“Soaked, baby.” His lips press to mine as he watches me. I can hear his own jeans opening but am powerless to do anything as he rubs my sensitive nub.

“Take them off if you want this to be fast, baby.”

Baby?

If we take ten hours I don’t care. What I need is for him to take care of this burning inside me.

I need his cock.

I wriggle down my jeans as Atlas does the same, then he lifts me up over his hips and props me on top of the counter.

Then sinks deep inside me as we both cry out.

Atlas quickly covers my mouth and smirks. “Quiet, baby.”

“Atlas. Oh fuck,” I say against his palm as he begins to move again.

Nothing has ever felt this hot, forbidden, naughty, or good.

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