Page 8 of F*ck Steal Kill

One time would never be enough with him, and knowing that terrified me. He was the type of man that would ruin you for others. And considering no one ever stayed in this town, that wouldn’t work out so well for me.

“Excuse me, this is the ladies' room,” I said, shifting on my boots and narrowing my gaze. I didn’t want him to know how affected I was by his mere presence, which meant I had to bring out my bitchy side.

Crossing my arms, I unintentionally pushed my breasts out more, and when his dark eyes scanned my body, touching each inch with a lover’s caress, I shivered. His hot gaze left goosebumps in its wake, spreading across my skin like a riptide. A tug, low in my abdomen, pulled at me, and I sucked in a breath at the intensity.

I wanted this man something fierce.

“Is that how we’re going to play this, baby?” he drawled, the first words out of his mouth. It shocked me. So much had been said already between us without any words.

“Play this?” I gasped.

He stalked closer, bringing his dark, seductive smell with him—leather, whiskey, and a hint of mahogany.

I stepped backward, hitting the sink counter when I couldn’t go any further. He didn’t stop until he was entirely in my space, his hands landing on the counter next to me. Every atom in my body screamed for me to wrap my legs around his waist and kiss him until I couldn’t breathe. My fingers itched to touch him, my nose to smell him, and my mouth to lick him. I wanted there to be no space between us, so I didn’t know where I ended and he began.

I wanted to be consumed by him.

“This is your last chance to stop this,” he whispered, nuzzling my neck with his nose, his breath sending shivers straight to my clit.

I sucked in a breath, but words didn’t escape. He gazed into my eyes as his hands lifted to touch me. They were wide and rough, gripping my hips with authority. Hoisting me up, he placed me on the counter between the two sinks, spreading my legs open so he could step between them.

Absolutely nothing inside of me wanted to stop this. We were on a crash course headed for ultimate annihilation, and I had no desire whatsoever to stop it.

This man would wreck me, and I willingly threw off my seatbelt as I beckoned him nearer, cursing myself for not wearing a skirt.

The sexy bad boy leaned into my space, his hot breath fanning against me. I was weak to stop him as he nipped my neck, leaving a trail with his teeth along my collarbone. My arms ached to reach out and touch him, but the last shred of self-preservation I had reminded me I’d be a goner if I did.

His calloused hands brushed my legs, moving under my shorts. His fingers teased my panties, grazing the thin material as he stared into my eyes, watching me. When I didn’t stop him, he moved my panties out of the way. One second he gently skimmed my clit, and the next, he plunged his thick digit into my core. My back arched as my head fell against the mirror, my hips bucking up to meet him.

There was no way to hide the fact I was soaking wet for him.

A loud moan left me as my hands, no longer able to stay down, gripped his shoulders. My nails dug into his skin as I held him, his thick finger moving in and out of me with ease. I was so aroused by him and this encounter that it was almost embarrassing.

“That soft weasel of a boy doesn’t deserve your honey. You need a man who knows how to wring out pleasure in you until you can no longer walk.”

Gasping, I knew I needed to say something, but his thumb stroked across my clit, making me speechless outside of my moans. His hot mouth landed on my skin, and I held him to me as he sucked. My body quaked, my pussy quivering with need as it begged for something more to fill it.

Too quickly, I came, my hips jerking around his fingers as I rode out my orgasm. He withdrew slowly, a smirk growing and making him even more ruggedly handsome, if possible.

“Now, at least you’ll have something to think about when you’re pretending to enjoy your vanilla sex with the weasel.” He stepped back; his eyes focused on me as he placed his fingers in his mouth, sucking them dry.

He never broke eye contact as he walked to the door, winking before he unlocked it and stepped outside, and leaving me in a whimpering heap on the counter.

A second later, the door flew open, and a woman entered, eyeing my position. Sliding off, I fixed my clothes and washed my hands, needing the cool water to reground me again.

When I glanced in the mirror this time, my eyes glittered with excitement; the fierceness had returned tenfold.

Drying my hands, it wasn’t until I turned to leave that I spotted his parting gift. Right on the top of my left breast was a giant hickey. One that had clearly not been there before. Shit.

He was either sending me a message or daring me to try to explain it if I went through with the weasel—I mean, Patrick.

I had to hand it to him, and not just because he had excellent fingers, but because he’d made it almost impossible for me to continue down my path tonight.

If I went through with it, I’d be thinking about him just like he suggested. And if I didn’t, he won, successfully distracting me from my pursuit. Either way, the man without a name made sure his face was the last one I saw tonight.

The sad part was I was too high off my orgasm to care.

Strolling out of the bathroom, I headed for the front door, my eyes sweeping across the bar but not spotting Mr. Magic Fingers.

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