Page 15 of Trouble for Hire
“Not here.”
His low, rumbled words were the only warning she received before he hiked her into his arms, cradling her to his chest. Apparently, the kiss hadn’t left her breathless because a gust of air escaped her at being swept off her feet—literally. Though she would’ve never cast herself in the role of damsel in distress, she curled her arms around his neck and hung on, heart fluttering at his casual display of strength.
He strode down the hallway, not stopping until he reached the room where the artists inked tattoos that required more privacy. Kicking the door closed behind him, he whirled around and pressed her back to it.
That mouth—that gorgeous, diabolical mouth—claimed hers again, and she submitted to the pleasure that submerged her beneath its dark waves. How a man’s kiss could be sexier, hotter than any sex she’d had, she couldn’t begin to explain. It just was. And she chalked it up to this man. This man and his hungry lips that bruised her own.
This man and his seeking hands that fisted her hair, scattering pinpricks across her scalp. His busy hands that slid under the flowy skirt of her dress and stroked up her bare thighs to cup her ass, squeeze it and then moan as if he’d discovered a long-lost treasure.
This man and his big, hard body that promised all kinds of pleasure even as it held her aloft, granting her security and safety.
This man, this man.
God, she wanted him. Needed him.
“Erik, please,” she whispered. Begged. Because, yes, she was begging.
Maybe she didn’t have the exact words, but Erik didn’t seem to need them. His mouth abandoned hers and trailed a damp, searing path over her jaw, down her throat and collarbone to the valley between her breasts.
Oh God.
A cry ripped free from her as he closed his lips around her nipple, right through her filmy, summer dress. Her clothing and bra might as well have been air for all the defenses they provided her. His tongue lashed the beaded tip then curled around it, sucking hard. Bright, sharp pleasure arrowed from her breast straight to her moist, spasming sex.
“Oh God,” she repeated, this time aloud.
How could she survive this heat, this nearly overwhelming lust? And he hadn’t even touched her naked skin yet.
As if he could read her mind, a hand lifted to the bodice of her dress and tugged it and her bra down. Her flesh popped out over the top, baring her to him.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathed, brushing his lips over her nipple. Once. Twice. Again. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous. I knew you would be. I knew it.”
She didn’t have time to dwell on the knowledge that Erik had thought about her naked. The blast of ecstasy that ripped through her as his mouth closed around her obliterated everything but him and how he played her body like a finely tuned guitar. One he might very well smash to smithereens before this all ended.
She curled over his head, wrapping her arms around him, feverish words dropping from her lips. Words urging him not to stop, harder, more. And he acquiesced. God, did he.
Erik lowered her to the floor but didn’t release her. Good thing, too, because she couldn’t have said with certainty that her trembling legs could hold her up. One strong arm wrapped around her waist while his other hand trailed over her hip and dipped underneath her panties, cupping her flesh.
A keening wail crawled up her throat but lodged there. It echoed in her head as she arched tight as a bow against him. Her fingernails scrabbled at his shoulders, searching for purchase not just in the here and now, but in this carnal, chaotic storm he’d tossed her in.
“Erik,” she gasped, surging up on the balls of her feet. Attempting to escape the electrical currents of pleasure that assailed her or seeking more of it? She didn’t know. Both?
“No?” he asked, his voice like brand-new sandpaper. “Or yes?” He rolled the heel of his palm over her clit, and she loosed a strangled whimper at the swell of lust that swamped her, pulsed right where he cradled her. “Is that a yes, sweetheart?”
She groaned. Now he wanted to tease her. When he had her body strung so tight she threatened to snap into pieces.
“Yes, dammit,” she hissed. Or tried to. It came out as more of a whine.
His low chuckle brushed the base of her throat seconds before he raked his teeth down her neck...and thrust two long, large fingers inside her.
And she broke. Exploded into all those pieces. Pieces he would have to be responsible for gathering because she couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Could do nothing but accept the pleasure shattering over and through her in endless, exultant waves.
“Fuck, that was beautiful. I want to see that again. Except with you around my cock this time.”
Erik’s muttered words barely penetrated the erotic fog that encased her brain. And when he swept her up in his arms again, carrying her to the tattoo chair and positioning her so she straddled his thick thighs, she didn’t put up any protest. Not when bliss had replaced blood in her veins and she grieved leaving this place of utter peace.
But then his fingers brushed her inner thighs, and she glanced down in time to see him remove a condom from the small foil package and roll it down over his cock.
And that quick lust reignited as if it’d never been sated.
