Page 91 of The Truths that Deceive

“Do you have any more meaningless tests for me?”

“Do you need them?” I counter.

Her face turns arctic, tinged with a little volcanic activity, and her hard gaze hooks into me deep.

“You need to be whipped, hung, maybe even quartered.”

“Add some boiling oil and it’ll be a party.”

“You’re a sick fuck.”

“So are you,” I say, dropping my voice. I place the scotch down on the desk in my study where I was just going to set up for the evening. Outside it’s already getting dark, but this is New York. Things don’t get started until at least nine o’clock or so.

“I think I’m just going to take my chances.” She narrows her eyes. “Alone.”

I’m up fast and around the desk. I capture her arm andwalk her back to the sofa. She teeters and pitches forward, but I tighten my hold. Keeping her drawn up against me, the scent of citrus and spice swirling and teasing the air.

She doesn’t even wear perfume. It’s just her.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Her eyes get stormier, glimmering with a wild heat. “Try and stop me.”

“That your fucked-up way of issuing an invitation?”

Calista lifts her chin and sways into me. “Are you looking for one?”

Earlier when I stupidly kissed her, fires were lit. All kinds of fires. Because it wasn’t a kiss with an agenda. It was just a kiss that took on life and flared. It’s still there, in the air, and I can feel the aftermath of it in me still, the beat of wild, carnal lust, the urge for more.

And she…

She suddenly swoops in and bites me through my shirt. Her mouth’s hot and wet, teeth sharp and delicious as they sink sharply into the flesh of my chest.

“Let go, please…”

Her whisper has something in there, a note that pleads, one that begs for freedom.

I loosen my hand and she slides down the length of me, kissing her way down over my rapidly growing erection. Then she bites my thigh as she unbuttons my trousers.

“Fucking little…” Laughter rumbles up inside of me. “Sweetheart, you’re the most intriguing prey I’ve ever met.”

“Not prey.”

We both know it’s a lie.

She shoves me, and I go willingly onto the sofa, letting her free my now iron-hard cock.

I let her because there’s something fucking powerful in awoman who thinks she’s utterly in control, who takes the chance to dive right into the den with the bigger, wilder animal.

“Well, then, Mrs. Hunter,” I say, “do your best.”

She slides her hands up over me, pulling on my cock and making me dig my fingers into the soft linen cushions. And then she looks up at me, eyes glittering with a feral light, one that makes me growl low in the back of my throat.

She licks me.

From my balls all the way up to the tip. And fuck, does it feel phenomenal.

My kiss earlier softened the boundaries that she winds tight around her. But this… I don’t know if she thinks this will buy her time or a way out, or if she just can’t help herself. Or even if it’s a combination of all those things. I don’t even know if it matters, because in this moment, those boundaries dissolve away.

---