Page 26 of Fiona and the Fixer

Whatever.

His gaze met mine. Held.

“I don’t even know your name,” he said as he set his hands on my hips, lifted me enough to hover over his latex-covered crown, then lowered me onto him. He bent his knees to cradle me on his lap.

“Fiona. Oh God.” He was so flipping big. But I was so wet he filled me easily. There was a hint of burn that went with the stretch. My eyes fell closed then I had to move, lifting up, then slamming back down. “Yes,” I hissed.

“Don’t you want to know the name of the guy who’s fucking you?” he growled, as if insulted.

I met his gaze as he gripped my hips and pushed up into me as I sank down.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Dax.”

I smiled and clenched around him. “Nice to meet you, Dax.”

He grit his teeth. “You fuck all the men you meet at armed robberies?”

“Yes.”

His fingers tightened on my hips, and I knew I’d have little bruises. He didn’t like the answer. I smirked.

“Never been involved in an armed robbery before.” Investigated, yes. Not involved.

He liked that answer because he started fucking me again, easily lifting and lowering me as he wanted.

“You fuck all the women you don’t listen to during an armed robbery?” I countered, although my voice wasn’t stern, but ridiculously breathy and had a hint of a moan at the end.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” he said instead of answering my question. His hand came down on my ass in a hard spank, the crack of it loud in the store.

What the…?

My eyes flared. So did the sting on my left butt cheek. Then I moaned and pretty much melted.

“Fuck,” he growled. “That was for putting yourself in danger like that. You need a fucking keeper.”

I shook my head and took over from him, riding him in a way that had my clit rubbing against his base. I knew how good a Dax-induced orgasm was. I wanted another. “You don’t like a woman who takes charge.”

He grunted, then hoisted me off him.

Then he manhandled me onto my hands and knees.Got behind me. Spanked me again. “Fuck, this ass looks good with my handprints on it.” I had a feeling he was talking to himself more than me. “Okay, sweetheart. This is how it’s going to go. Let me mansplain this to you.” Then he drove into me. Deep. I cried out. “I’m the one who does the fucking.”

“I hate you,” I muttered.

“Want me to stop?”

I frowned and admitted the truth. “No. Stop and I’ll shoot you with your SIG.”

He laughed, slamming into me nice and hard, just the way I loved it and spanked me again.

“You just got wetter. Like a man in charge, do you?”

“No.”

“Maybe I should put my dick in that mouth of yours to stop those lies.”

The thought of him doing just that, taking me how he wanted, showing me who was the boss with his dick, got me hot. Hotter.

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