Page 58 of Restless Hawke
She yelps slightly at the contact, but before she can say anything else, I bury my face there, licking and sucking and consuming every sweet drop of the drink—and her.
A lethally addictive combination.
“Oh, fuck!”
She gasps, one hand shifting from the edge of the bar into my hair and tugging at the strands as she angles my head and grinds her hips against my face.
I groan my approval—at both the combined flavor of the booze and Allegra and the aggressive desperation it’s elicited in her.
My cock, painfully hard and incessantly aching, presses against the zipper of my pants. “Fucking hell, Allegra. I could so easily get addicted to you.”
She tosses her head from side to side, eyes clenched closed, body taut and quaking under my ministrations. “Coen, I need…”
“You need to come?”
With a groan, she nods, her hips moving against my face as much as I’ll allow with my forearm braced against her, holding her down and at my mercy.
“What if I don’t want to let you come?”
Her eyes flash open to meet mine, panic seeping into the gray, making them almost black. “You wouldn’t. Not again.”
I offer her a slow grin, dragging my hand up her inner thigh as I rise to my feet, slipping two fingers easily into her drenched core as hers fall away from my hair. She groans at the intrusion, clenching around them, and my cock twitches, begging to be there to feel those walls constricting around it. I curl my fingers inside, finding that perfect soft spot, and she bucks against my hand, trying to grind her clit against my palm the way I toyed with her in Macau.
But I shift my grip, preventing her from doing just that.
“Would I, Allegra?”
She nods, breathless and panting. “Yes.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because,” she gasps, “because I fucked with you.”
“And how many times did you fuck with me, Allegra?”
She whimpers, clenching around my fingers as I probe and drag them across that hyper-sensitive spot over and over again, refusing to touch her clit and give her what she really needs. “T-t-twice. I did it twice.”
I lean in, ghosting my lips across hers, capturing another little mewl as I allow my thumb to just barely graze her most sensitive spot. “So, it would only be fair for me to stop right now. Wouldn’t it? For me to leave you here, shaking and wet and needy like I did the other night?”
Her thick, dark lashes rise slowly until her half-hooded gaze meets mine. “It would.” She slides her hand into my hair again and tugs. “But you won’t do that.”
So sure of herself.
I raise a brow. “Why not?”
She pushes herself up away from the wall until her mouth hits mine in a bruising kiss that has me almost coming on the spot. Her other hand leaves the edge of the counter, and she grasps my cock pinned between us. “Because you want this as much as I do. And if we don’t fuck today, then every time we sit at the table with each other, it’s going to be like this. Neither of us able to concentrate. Both of us playing a different game instead of concentrating on the one on the felt.”
Fuck, she’s right.
She’s so fucking right.
It’s only been a few weeks since I first saw her, and ever since, I haven’t been able to get this woman out of my head.
This kind of obsession kills my ability to think straight. Crushes that part of me that has been trained to remain impassive. It was all gone the moment I met her.
I crash my mouth to hers again, and she releases my hair to fumble with my pants, finally freeing my aching cock. It springs out, and she tears her mouth from mine to look down at it, her gaze widening.
“Jesus…”
