Page 25 of Wicked Intentions (Wicked Games 3)
His stare is blistering. I stare back, hating myself for liking him, cursing whatever gods might exist for putting him in this room. Anyone else and I’d have stuck to my plan. Anyone else and he’d be deep in a peaceful, sedative-induced sleep right now. Instead, fate decided to put me in the path of this man, the trained killer with the beautiful laugh and addictive kisses and eyes that see straight down to the bottom of my soul.
Finally, in a small voice I say, “I’ll be brave.”
It’s not like I have a choice. If he kicks me out, I won’t be able to climb the balcony to Prince Khalid’s suite, and then I won’t be able to steal the necklace, and the consequences of failure aren’t something I allow myself to think about.
Better to suffer here in this bed than at the hands of the masters I serve.
Nostrils flared, Ryan inhales slowly. His gaze darts all over my face. “I mean it,” he warns.
I swallow, muster my courage, then wrap my arms around his back. “I know.” My voice is a pathetic, wavering thing. When the tear slides from the corner of my eye, I don’t try to wipe it away. I just lie there and hate myself.
“Oh fuck, Angel,” he breathes. He looks dazed, in happy disbelief, like someone just told him he won the lottery. Because of a tear.
I don’t understand this person.
At.
All.
He kisses me so gently, I want to break every piece of furniture in the room. “Stop it,” I beg. “Stop being so…sweet. I can’t take it! Just fuck me like you would anyone else!”
“How do you know I’m not like this with anyone else?”
“The same way you know I’m a liar!”
He stares at me for a beat, blue eyes glittering. “Fair enough,” he says with frightening calm. “But just so you know, me not bein’ sweet is gonna leave marks.”
I exhale in relief. “Thank God. That I know how to handle.”
Not even a split second passes before Ryan shows me exactly what not sweet involves as his fingers, hard as stone, dig into my skin.
Seven
Ryan
If she wants it hard, she’s gonna get it hard, and God help her if she changes her mind.
Once I’m unleashed, there’s no stopping me.
My kiss is savage. She returns it with a grateful noise, digging her nails into my back. She’s luscious heat and satin beneath me. She’s killer curves and a million contradictions and walls so thick, a man needs blast charges just to uncover her true smile.
Who are you, Angel?
I pull her head back and kiss her throat. She cries out when I bite her, scratches her nails down my back.
I’m glad she can’t see my smile.
I flip her on her belly, then roughly drag her up onto her knees, hiking her beautiful bare ass in the air. Then I bite that, too, because I’ve wanted to do it since the second I saw her. With her face buried in the coverlet, she moans.
I slap her ass and bark, “Quiet!”
She gives me that kitten growl that tells me she wants to tear off my head.
I rip my wallet out of my back pocket, find a condom, and open the foil package with my teeth. I’m sheathed in seconds. I grab a fistful of her hair and steady her with my hand gripped around one of her hips.
Then without another word or any warning, I plunge my hard dick inside her.
This time when she cries out, it’s guttural. Her back arches. She clenches her hands into the covers and bucks back against me.
